The Consequences of Sin
by JustKel
Summary: "The things you do, come back to you, as if they know the way." Everyone has a point of no return. Not friendly to Stephanie, Morelli, or anyone really. Some sympathy for the Ranger, but even he gets singed. Everyone's an asshole and no one gets a happy ending. Read the warnings. Nothing drastic, but things change rapidly with my mood.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

It's been a few years since I posted here as WrongFromGo, but not much has changed. I still don't write fluff, I'm still addicted to the dark side, I still do not give trigger warnings or spoiler alerts. I rate everything M or higher as a standard, because I pretty much always stay in territory that is definitely not for the under 18 set. I also seldom complete fanfics, mainly because I write them when my own work has stalled out and I'm frustrated with it.

So, this is intended to be a one or two chapter piece. Not friendly to Stephanie. Not friendly to anyone, really. I enjoy the JE books but the shallow, never evolving characters have gotten on my nerves. Might have something to do with my current personal situation, since everything gets on my nerves. Give me a few weeks to lose this 30lbs, and I'll maybe lighten up. ;)

As always, I own none of this and get nothing monetary from it. If you want to find that stuff, you'll have to hit me up privately. It's out there.

1

The police scanner crackled to life and every ear in the monitor room perked up, like Dobermans hearing the rustle of butcher paper.

"Shots fired… Pino's… vehicle fire. Someone get Morelli on the horn, it's Plum again."

Eyes slid towards the bank of monitors where Ranger sat, reviewing footage of an inexplicable security breach from earlier in the day. His head swiveled slightly towards the scanner, and a muscle twitched beside his right eye. He turned his eyes back to his screen and tapped the keyboard, going back to his review of the tape.

"Boss?"

"You can check it out on your own time if you want, Les. Go ahead and clock out." Ranger's gaze never left his computer. Santos frowned, but shoved back from his monitors and headed out the door.

The silence of the room deepened into a tense, ominous thing. Babe duty was usually not just on the clock, but hazard pay. Something had changed.

2.

Stephanie sat on the curb, waiting while Morelli ranted and raved above her, flinging his arms around his head. Money exchanged hands and you could almost see the lines from cell phone signals crisscrossing the smoky air.

A black SUV pulled to the opposite curb, and she smiled to herself. She knew she could count on Ranger's support and comfort. Her smile faded when Les climbed out alone and ambled over to her.

"You okay?" he asked. His green eyes were troubled in his neutral face.

"Yeah," she replied, her eyes going over his shoulder to the SUV. Les gave her a slight shake of the head.

"What happened?"

"I was picking up some lunch with Lula. I saw one of my FTAs walk past, so I thought I'd grab him real quick. He turned around and swung on me, and Lula took a shot at him. She missed and blew up my car. Again." Stephanie sighed.

"She bailed on you?" Les shook his head. He never could understand why she let Lula partner her. Any man who had ducked and run from a Rangeman crew would have been out of a job before they got to the corner- and then they'd have to deal with Ranger.

"She's allergic to cops. She'll come back to get lunch."

Les rubbed the back of his neck, looking around.

"Okay, beautiful. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. Catch ya on the flip side." He folded himself away into the SUV and drove off, leaving Stephanie confused and bereft on the sidewalk. Ranger always showed up. He'd hug her, kiss her head, and a new car would be delivered like magic. She stood up and turned around in a slow circle, looking for him. He wasn't there.

Looking at Morelli, huddled with Eddie and some of the other guys, she felt a chill slide down her spine. No one was there.

3.

Ranger settled into his couch and sighed with relief as his tense muscles unwound. Music throbbed quietly through the room, an older U2 album with Bono's aching vocals mourning the lost. It paired perfectly with the golden wine in his glass and the dim lighting of the comfortable room.

He thought about the events of the afternoon. He had reacted exactly the same as his men when the police band crackled, initially. His body had tightened, muscles bunching in preparation to go riding to the rescue. And then the adrenaline had washed away under a realization.

She didn't need him. And he didn't need her.

He had listened to the radio chatter while he reviewed the video files in front of him. The knowledge had settled around him like a well tailored suit. He'd spent years rescuing Stephanie from her own stupid choices and refusal to take responsibility for her actions. Sure, he'd had some great sex here and there, but overall, Stephanie just used him like she used everyone else, as an excuse to not grow up.

She used Morelli to keep her family and friends placated.

She used him as an excuse to not commit to Morelli.

She used her grandmother, Lula, Bella Morelli, and anyone within convenient eyeline to blame for her epic fuck ups.

She used her mother and the expectations of the Burg as her excuse to not actually learn how to do the job she refused to give up.

Most of all, she used her innocent, girl next door facade as coldly and ruthlessly as a high class escort used her body to manipulate her clients. He snorted, sipping his wine as he realized he should have used different contacts to help the woman over the years.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil.

"Long time no talk, Sin."

4.

"No one else's daughter blows up cars!"

Stephanie ignored her mother's well worn complaints and concentrated on the mound of lasagna on her plate. Her grandmother put in another inappropriate comment, her father tightened his grip on his butter knife, and Valerie's daughter neighed.

"What kind of car did Ranger give you this time? " Val asked around a mouthful of bread.

Stephanie shrugged. "Nothing. I need to borrow Big Blue again."

"Really, Steph. You must be slacking off with that guy." Val rolled her eyes. "Just call him and say pretty please. You'll be driving the Porsche again in no time."

"And what would Joe think? She should be getting married, not asking that thug for favors!"

Val's suggestive words made Stephanie squirm. She was technically with Joe again, but she knew he wasn't any more faithful than she was. She had Ranger, he had everyone else. She didn't really mind. She'd never cared enough about him to care about where his dick wandered, but he made her look better to the Burg. She'd never get away with half of her antics if she dropped him for good.

Ranger, though. The Black Knight to her damsel in distress routine, he was always good for making things easier for her. Whether it was a gourmet meal, a car, or extra cash, he definitely kept her pampered when she wanted it. And he was easier to play with than Joe. One hint that she was conflicted, and his ingrained chivalry had him backing down. She's probably given him blue balls a hundred times by now. The power that made her feel was amazing, even better than the admittedly fantastic sex.

She accepted a slice of chocolate cake and made a mental note to call him.

Two hours later, she slammed her phone down and snatched the Buick keys off the counter. He had sent her calls to voicemail, her texts had gone unanswered. She drove to the Haywood building in a rage. She schooled her face into prettily confused lines and gave the cameras a finger wave as she entered the elevator.

She stepped off at seven and fobbed open the apartment door. There was music playing somewhere, and the scent of Ranger's luxury body wash hung heavy in the air. She caught a whiff of floral perfume, stronger than usual, from the flowers beside the door.

"Ranger?"

She congratulated herself on her voice. It was just the right mix of concern and inquiry. She was worried about him, after all. He (and more importantly, a shiny new car) hadn't shown up. He wasn't answering his phone. She needed to see if he was okay. A few kisses, some reassurance and well placed heavy petting, and she'd be out the door, keys in hand, and probably with free, professional take-down help to clear her FTA list. She definitely loved the Merry Men. A little fumbling and flirting, and she got to sit back while they brought Mama's paycheck to her, just like the well trained puppies they were.

She stepped into the living room and stopped, her face blank with shock. Ranger was sprawled on the couch, shirtless, with a pair of loose white cotton pajama pants riding low on his hips. He had a glass of wine in hand and looked utterly relaxed, his hair tousled and damp from a shower. Her fingertips suddenly itched with the desire to touch his golden skin.

If there hadn't been a woman stretched out on the couch beside him, she might have. Instead, she was treated to seeing a pair of tiny feet with shimmering dark polish resting comfortably on those muscled thighs. Long pale legs disappeared into a casual black romper that packaged a slim, dainty woman with a long braid that trailed over the couch arm to coil on the floor. She looked about 20, and completely at ease with the situation.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was interrupting."

The woman laughed, and Stephanie added 10 years to her age. Delicate lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes, and her laughter had the husky depth of a mature woman.

"You didn't interrupt." Ranger quirked an eyebrow at his companion and shrugged. "We were expecting you."

"You were?" Stephanie bit her tongue, hard, against the rage that threatened to boil out. She strove to put the right mix of hurt and bravado into her voice, licking her lips and blinking rapidly against nonexistent tears. "I guess my invitation got lost in the mail."

"You weren't kidding, Ranger. She'd make a hell of a pro, if she lost the ego." The woman stretched and swung her feet off Ranger's lap, sitting up and scooping her wine glass off the table. Ranger handed her his wordlessly, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Who is that?" Steohanie asked bluntly. Her easy street was slipping away, she could feel it. She wanted to know who to blame it on.

"An old friend. You can call her Cynthia."

"What do you call her?" There was an edge of shrillness to her voice, and Stephanie took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm.

"All sorts of things," Ranger taunted lightly. "Like I said, we're old friends."

"I didn't come here to fight." Steohanie swallowed hard, conjuring up some real tears. "I was worried about you."

"That's a first. Stephanie Plum worrying about anything other than what she wants? Or are you going to tell me you want me- for now?"

"Ranger… "

"Sorry, _Babe. _The sucker you're trying to reach is unavailable. Leave a message. Maybe someone will get back to you." His gaze went over her shoulder and a tiny smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't hold my breath, though."

Cynthia brushed past Stephanie with freshly filled glasses and dropped the key fob onto the coffee table. She settled next to Ranger, handing him his drink. Her eyes studied Stephanie over the rim of her glass, dark in the dim light of the living room.

Stephanie trembled. Gone. It was all gone. Rangers endless generosity, her helpful puppies doing her work for her, the luxury cars and highly paid distractions. Everything. Tears choked her.

A Rangeman she'd never met escorted her out of the building, put her in her car, and wished her a good night, his impassive eyes sliding off her like she was coated in Crisco. She drove back to her dingy cracker box of an apartment, feeling hollow.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks, katanc, trhodes9, BB, and everyone else for the reviews! No promises on where this thing rambles or drops into oblivion, but I appreciate you coming along for the ride.

I will need to figure out what I'm doing wrong with formatting, I've never done this off my phone before. Hopefully it wasn't too hard to follow.

All the usual applies, I make no money off of torturing JE's characters, I'm just doing it for fun.

1.

"Tank, you and the Core Team hold back after the meeting." Ranger settled at the head of the table with his coffee cup and a stack of files. The morning briefing was a necessity to his crew, but this morning he was aware of the sidelong glances and silent communication between the men.

"Okay." Pushing back from the files in front of him, he kicked back in his chair slightly and folded his hands over his stomach. "Let's get it over with. Who wants to speak up first?"

The combat-hardened, battle scarred men shifted uneasily, exchanging mutters, until Hector rolled his eyes and cursed them all in gutter Spanish.

"Dios. Jefe, what's the word on the girl, eh?"

Ranger found himself grinning at the slender ex-gangbanger. Apparently the barrios of LA, Hector's hometown, were scarier than the dark underbelly of war- or himself.

"Ms. Plum is no longer a concern of Rangeman, unless otherwise noted. Or, since I'm sure everyone is wondering, of mine. I've hired in a new freelancer to cover distractions and the lower level bonds we've been handling. You'll all meet her in due time."

"So… " Hal rubbed the back of his neck with a hand the size of a Christmas ham. "No more Disaster Patrols?"

"Unless someone's paying for it, that's exactly what it means."

Hal grinned. "Not that I minded the overtime, but that's a relief." Murmured agreement ran through room until Tank cleared his throat. Everyone quickly looked down at their briefings, and the meeting continued.

Ranger poured himself another cup of coffee and relaxed slightly as the employees scattered to their respective assignments.

"So, you cut the Bombshell loose, finally?" Tank said casually. Ranger snorted into his cup.

"Dios. Was everyone but me tuned in?"

"Not everybody. But it's been getting… obvious? That's a good word." Cal rubbed a hand over his face. "Shit, man, what were we supposed to say? We thought you were invested."

"I'm still lost," Les admitted. "One day Steph is a top priority, this morning she's nothing. I'm assuming there's more to the story than we know, yet."

"Rodriguez." A flash of understanding ran across Tank's face. "He decided to run a few numbers, along with a more in depth background. He was worried about some things that had popped up recently."

Les closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm guessing it wasn't good news."

"In addition to losses getting close to a million dollars, he found some irregularities on the employee accounts for Stephanie's freelance time. He also looked into her personal finances."

"She's been scamming us," Bobby said. "How bad?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed. I've already transferred over money from my personal account to cover the company losses." Ranger took a deep breath.

"This was my fuck up. I'm not going to let my team take the hit."

"Fair enough." Cal nodded, giving Tank and Les a warning glare when they looked like they wanted to protest. "So, who's the new bonds and bait chick?"

Ranger's eyes glinted with evil amusement. "Well, it's a funny story… "

2.

Sin bit back a laugh as she sauntered into the conference room. She'd known the Core team, in one way or another, for years. The combination of dismay and delight in their faces was priceless.

"You hired Sin? To work Jersey?" Tank groaned. "That's not right, man."

"Relax, big guy." Sin dropped into a chair beside Bobby and helped herself to coffee from the carafe on the table. "I volunteered. I wanted to be closer to my brother, so I moved up here a couple months ago, but I'm bored. When he gave me the rundown on what was going on, I saw an opportunity."

"Cynthia called me yesterday and asked me if I thought we had a place for her. We've all seen her in the field, and I think she'll be a good fit." Ranger met her gaze levelly across the table.

"And at least if I'm screwing you, you'll know it," Sin purred, deliberately stretching into a provocative slouch. Cal slapped Les on the back of the head and Tank laughed out loud.

"We'll pair Sin up with some of the more inexperienced bounty hunters. She can help us advance their training in more diplomatic takedowns. For distractions, she'll be running with the core Team exclusively. I don't trust her to not scare off the rookies." soon raised an eyebrow at Ranger and he shrugged.

"We're used to you."

Sin just smiled and shook her head. They discussed the parameters of her employment for a few more minutes before Cal passed over a stack of files. "These are the more urgent skips we need to move. They're all local, but working Trenton is like infiltrating a cult. No one moves without the hive mind coming online, and they take care of their own."

"Been there, done that." She accepted the files and pushed up from the table. "It's good to back in the game."

The men nodded and filed out, heading off to their offices. Bobby waited by the door and stopped her as she passed.

"How are you, really?" he asked. Her eyes flashed and he rolled his.

"I'm asking as Rangeman's medic first, but your friend second. We need to know you can do the job, but I can worry about my friend, too."

Well, damn. He had to go play the friend card. Exasperated, she blew a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Physically? I'm not as good as I was. I won't be wrestling with these guys, I can promise you that. Mentally, I'm still top of my game." She softened a little at the concern on his face.

"I have bad days. Sometimes they're really bad. But I'm still getting up every morning." She gave the cameras a quick glance and moved a little, turning her face so her lips couldn't be read.

"I owe Ranger. I couldn't let him fall down the rabbit hole, not after everything he did for us. You have my word, Bobby. I won't let any of you down."

Bobby smiled, his eyes sad. "Your word's good enough for me," he said. "Come on down to the armory, let's get you set up."

3.

Stephanie was working on her third Boston Cream and venting to Connie and Lula when the charcoal grey Dodge eased up to the curb behind Big Blue.

"Oh, shit. That's her!" Stephanie's eyes narrowed as the Rangeman who had escorted her out the night before stepped out of the driver's side and joined the slender blonde.

"Hmmph. She sure is a skinny bitch. Probably one of them anerv-retics," Lula sniffed. "How she gonna take down some big ass joker down on Stark Street?"

The door rattled as it opened, and Stephanie quickly wiped her face, trying to look nonchalant. The other woman didn't even look at her.

"Can I help you?" Connie asked snidely, letting her gaze sweep over Cynthia from head to toe. The blonde smiled at her, and Stephanie realized the eyes she'd thought were dark the night before were actually a rich bronze-green. Dressed in black jeans, a soft grey hip length sweater, and tightly laced black boots, she didn't look much like a Rangeman.

"You must be Connie. I'm Cynthia Rodriguez. I'm taking over the Rangeman skips." She offered Connie her hand and got two limp fingers in return.

"I'll have to confirm that," Connie said waspishly. The man behind Cynthia stiffened, but she just smiled.

"Sure thing. Here, if it's no problem… "

She pulled Connie's phone to the edge of the desk and dialed rapidly before hitting the speaker button. It rang once before Ranger picked up.

"Yo."

"Ranger, I've got some woman in here claiming she's your new BEA," Connie said, trying to sound like she was in control.

"About 5'5, blonde, green eyes, drives a big grey Dodge truck?" Ranger chuckled, and Connie shivered under the sound. "Yeah, she's with me."

"Oh, uhm, okay then." Connie flushed, tbe innuendo in Ranger's voice was impossible to miss. "I'll give her your files."

"Thanks, Bossman," Cynthia said brightly.

_"De nada_."

The line went dead and Cynthia replaced the handset in the cradle, her smile gone and eyes cool.

"So we're good." There was no question in her tone. Vinnie chose that moment to stick his head out of the office door.

"What the fuck is this, pussy power hour? Where are my FTAs? I'm not paying you to paint your nails and gossip!"

He noticed Cynthia and the Rangeman and instantly metamorphosed into his best sleazy Italian charm. He made a beeline for Cynthua, extending a hand.

"Excuse me, I didn't realize we had company. Vincent Plum. How can I help you?"

"Oh, Connie here already got it," Cynthia responded, scooping up the stack of files from the tray on the desk. "Micah and I were just grabbing these on our way through. Nice to meet you." she side stepped him neatly and passed the folders to her partner. With a quick nod, the silent man pulled open the door for her and they were gone.

"Stuck up bitch," Lula grouched. "She didn't even introduce herself to us, and we're more bounty hunter than her narrow ass is!"

"That's Ranger's new BEA," Connie said to Vinnie. He barked out a laugh, his malicious gaze landing on Stephanie.

"I bet she brings home more than the bacon, right Steph? What did you do, play the Catholic guilt card one time too many?"

Stephanie snatched up her thin stack of files and headed for the door, Lula hard on her heels. The fall morning was cool, but she was sweating.

"Ooh, girl, you okay? Your face is all red!"

"I can't believe he sent that- that- _person_ down here! Who does he think he is? First he humiliated me last night, now he does it at the office?" She climbed behind the wheel and cranked over the big engine.

"That Ranger sure got some nerve. That little ho ain't got nothing on you, White Girl. And what was up with her hair? She got it all pinned up on her head like a grandma. That ain't no style."

Stephanie flinched, remembering the sway of the thick hip length braid down Cynthia's back as she'd taken Stephanie's key fob to Ranger the night before, the way his dark fingers had rested lightly on the pale thigh when she took a seat next to him.

"Yeah, she seems pretty boring," she ground out.

"Well, I need a big, greasy, breakfast sandwich to wash down those donuts. Turn in at Cluck in the Bucket before we start looking for these losers."

4.

"Hey, Morelli, you seen Cupcake's competition yet?"

Joe looked up from the paperwork on his desk and scowled at Big Dog. The other officer grinned, fanning himself dramatically with a file folder.

"Ranger got himself a new bounty hunter. She's down in booking, if you want a peek. Word is Cupcake's spitting nails." The patrolman's laughter brayed down the hallway as he disappeared.

_What the hell, I could use some coffee anyway_, Morelli thought, pushing back from his cluttered desk. He strolled down to booking, keeping an eye out for the standard Rangeman black uniform. A young man whose posture screamed "fresh out of uniform" was the only one matching the description.

The booking officer was talking to a woman at the window, nodding enthusiastically at her cleavage as he scribbled on the papers in front of him.

Morelli paused, looking over the stranger. She wore a dark grey tank top over dark pants, a matching sweater tied around her waist. Sleek, pale blonde braids wrapped around her head, revealing a long, slim neck and toned shoulders and arms. She turned to the Rangeman and said something, and he caught a glimpse of vivid black and red ink swirling down her spine to disappear under her clothing.

He cleared his throat and casually headed towards the desk, making a point to "accidentally" bump into the woman.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, stepping back as she turned to look at him. He caught a fish of amusement as it crossed her face, but it quickly turned into warm appraisal.

"My fault, I'm sure." She gathered her forms and stepped back, motioning him ahead. "I was just finishing up."

"I'm Detective Morelli," Joe said with a grin. "Are these gorillas giving you any trouble?"

From the corner of his eye he saw heads coming together in whispered conversation and money changing hands. He turned up the wattage on his smile.

"Cynthia Rodriguez. I'm taking over some of the bond work from Rangeman." Her hand was cool and smooth, and he held it a moment longer than necessary.

"I wouldn't have picked you for a bond enforcement agent, . Bounty hunters tend to be a little rough around the edges." He let his gaze roam over her from her head to her feet. "I have to say, your edges look incredibly smooth to me."

"That's sweet of you, Detective." Cynthia disengaged her hand gently and stepped back. "It was a pleasure to meet you, but I need to be going. My partner and I are on the clock."

The Rangeman gave Morelli a cool look and a nod before falling into step behind the woman. Morelli leaned against the counter, watching her go.

"Some looker, isn't she?" Carl stopped beside him, folding his arms over his chest. "That's the third FTA she's brought in this morning."

"Hell, I'd let her cuff me!" someone else said sotto voce.

A ruckus at the door caught everyone's attention. Stephanie appeared, dragging a cursing, flailing woman in an unbuttoned housecoat and curlers through the door. Cynthia and Micah stepped back against the wall to give them room.

Morelli sighed and rolled his eyes, starting forward. A pale blue slipper sailed past his head as a particularly inspired kick launched it across the room, and he was confronted with a pair of wrinkled grey thighs that gaped open at the worst possible moment. He reeled backwards, throwing his hands up in front of his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Cupcake! What the hell are you doing!"

Stephanie threw herself on top of the struggling woman, sweating and panting.

"I'm bringing her in to be rescheduled!" she yelped. Disgusted, Morelli bent down and grabbed the woman's wrists, yanking her to her feet and pushing her down onto the bench. Stephanie stood up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. Globs of slimy white liquid were staying to dry in her curls, and her clothes were covered in more of the same. A stringent chemical smell, mixed with cloying floral scent, radiated from her person.

"My God, you're a mess. What is that all over you?"

Stephanie looked down at herself. "It's dog shampoo, I think."

There was a choked giggle from the door, and Stephanie swung towards it in full rhino mode. All that remained was a swinging door, and a glimpse of two dark clad figures climbing into a big grey truck.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

Well, this isn't going according to plan. The intention was to work out some frustration with an established series and tweak some issues with an OC (Sin, in a different form, belongs somewhere else, but she's not cooperating in that universe). Instead, she's having way too much fun to let me drive.

Obviously, I'm working by the seat of my overly stuffed pants. No beta, no editing, no rewrites. I own up to all the typos and glitches. Ch. 2 got written between job duties at work tonight. I cut it off when I got sleepy, and started this chapter.

I know right now it seems like there's no real plan. There is. I warned you that everyone's an asshole. There are no heroes in this story. If you're super duper attached to the canon characters, you may want to quit reading, as most of them are going to get flayed. Sin is driving, and she's NOT a nice person!

Usual warnings apply, I have an idea of what is going to happen, and it's getting darker. I own nothing from JEs world, I make no money off this story, and all mistakes are my own.

Thank you again to everyone who reviews, good or bad. I greatly appreciate the feedback!

1.

"You're humming."

Angel Rodriguez limped into the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane, and gave his sister a suspicious look. Garlic scented steam swirled up from the pan on the stove.

"I'm in a good mood," Sin replied, adding peppers and mushrooms to her pan. Angel snorted and stumped over to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of pinot grigio and tucking it under his arm. Sin pulled down glasses from the rack under the cabinet and set them out without comment.

"So, you lapped the Bombshell five to one today," Angel observed, handing her drink to her. "I take it you had a reason?"

"I just want to be good at my job!" she protested, giving him wide, innocent eyes. His mouth twisted in a tired smile.

"You're always good at your job, sis. It's lying to me you're shit at."

She grinned in wry acknowledgement and added the shrimp, swirling the mixture with a generous donation from her wine glass. Angel dropped a double handful of linguine noodles into the pot of boiling water and set a bowl on the counter.

Sin scooped the shrimp and vegetables from pan to bowl and reached over her head for the flour and Tony Chacheres.

"How's the betting running down at the sausage factory?" she asked casually, whisking the flour into a roux.

"Sixty-forty on Morelli tagging you by the end of the month. About the same on Plum blowing up her car or apartment. Fifty-fifty odds on Ranger bailing her out again. I think the whole dog shampoo thing hurt her there."

"Well, if you lie down with dogs, and all that. And to think, I didn't even wear makeup," Sin mused wickedly. "I could have gotten us a better split on that last one."

"_Bruja_."

"Flattery will get you dinner, little brother." Sin added the heavy cream and stirred the sauce thoughtfully as it thickened. Adding the meat and vegetables back to the pan, she moved it off the heat and carried the pasta to the sink.

"How much, exactly, did she get from the company?"

Angel grimaced.

"Between skimming 'research' hours while shopping online, fees she collected while having Rangeman employees capture and pull in her FTAs, equipment costs, expense receipts for bogus costs, and the cost to the company for the cars themselves, insurance premiums on her alone, and medical costs and sick pay for the guys she got hurt while playing Queen Bee- about 2million over the last few years.

"Then there's the danger pay every time we put a security detail on her, and petty larcenies from the building and Ranger's personal possessions. That also doesn't account for what Ranger paid out of pocket for some of the security systems and such."

Sin whistled softly. "You'd think, with that kind of grift, she'd be better off financially. Micah and I happened to cruise past her apartment while picking up our second guy. Not exactly the Ritz."

"Yeah. She's got some expensive habits."

Sin raised an eyebrow at her brother, but pointed wordlessly at the small table. He lowered himself carefully into a chair, stretching his bad leg out with a small sound of pain. She dished up the pasta, smothering the bushes with the rich, spicy cream sauce and carrying it to the table, where the salad, bread, and butter waited. She refreshed both glasses and put the bottle within Angel's reach.

"Does Ranger know?"

"Mr. Body Is A Temple, no temptation shall cross my threshold? Get real, Sin."

"He gives in to temptation now and then," Sin laughed. Angel rolled his eyes.

"You would know."

2.

Stephanie rolled over and groaned at the light attacking through her curtains. Her head throbbed heavily and her tongue felt coated in dryer lint. She fumbled on the bedside table for the glass of water she hoped was there. Her fingers brushed against it and it shows out of reach, crashing to the floor.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" she screamed into her pillow. She kicked her feet against the mattress like a toddler and punched the pillow viciously. Flopping over on her back, she threw her arm up over her eyes and resigned herself to getting up.

She stumbled into the kitchen and pulled open the freezer. The ice burned her hand, but she dug through to the baggie at the bottom. Three pretty blue pills gleamed up at her through the frosted blister packaging. Enough to get her through the day.

She peeled the plastic back from one of the compartments and stuck the pill under her tongue. Bittersweet chemicals flooded her mouth immediately, and she swallowed to keep from choking on her own saliva. The inside of her cheeks tingled.

While the pill dissolved under her tongue, she made a pot of coffee and fed her hamster. By the time she'd washed away the last grainy pieces from the backs of her teeth with the coffee, her limbs were humming with energy, the headache a fading memory.

She showered, the hot water feeling luxurious on her skin, and lingered over doing her hair and makeup. Her stomach growled loudly, and she hurried into the bedroom to dress, skirting the mess of broken glass and water on the floor. She wanted donuts. The housekeeping could wait.

Stephanie knew she wasn't an addict. Addicts bought drugs on street corners and did sexual favors in alleys. Addicts didn't take care of themselves, or show up for dinner at their parent's house. Addicts didn't have jobs. Addicts took drugs, Stephanie took supplements.

Stephanie bought her supplements in neat, sterile packaging at the back of Connie's cousin Vittorio's pharmacy. It had reassuring white and blue packaging, with all the instructions and dosages in Italian. She didn't read Italian, of course. She wasn't sure what was in Vittorio's magic pills, but she loved them. They made her feel invincible, like nothing could go wrong. And she could eat almost anything without gaining weight.

It was a shame the FDA wouldn't approve them in the states, she thought. Buying them on the black market was so expensive, even with her friends of the Family discount through Connie.

Thinking about it made her feel a little queasy. Without the extra money from Rangeman, she was going to need to hustle. It wouldn't hurt to get in a little extra time with Connie this morning and see what kind of strings the Mafia princess could pull. Stephanie needed some easy money, and fast. She pulled into Tasty Pastry and grabbed two boxes of donuts before heading to the bonds office.

"Hey, Connie!" she sang out, plastering a smile on and breezing through the door. "The maple bars are still warm!"

Connie looked up from the desk, her eyes wide. "Hey, Steph, you're early." She cut her eyes towards Vinnie's office and made a face. "I didn't think you'd be here this early."

"What's up?" Stephanie asked, prepping her hip up in the desk and pulling out a chocolate frosted donut. "Vinnie catch another duck?"

"Not exactly," Connie muttered, avoiding Stephanie's eyes as she carefully placed a maple bar on a napkin. "Ranger's here."

Shit. The donut settled like a lump of glue in Stephanie's throat. She wiped her hands on her jeans and stood up, her brain working overtime.

"I don't know why that would stop me from coming in to pick up my files," she said, tilting her chin up. She snagged the stack from Connie's tray and carried them to the couch, settling in and crossing her legs. She was glad she'd taken the extra time with her looks this morning. She adjusted her top a little and discreetly adjusted her push up bra. _Let Ranger get a look_, she thought. _Maybe he'll remember what he's missing. _

3.

Ranger watched Vinnie's CC feed while the little worm gushed over Sin, faintly amused by Steph's arrival and subsequent flounce to the couch. Sin was nodding and giving all the right answers, her face as cool and distant as a glacier. Her foot tapped his ankle sharply and he glanced over. Her fingers moved in quick flashes.

_Out. Now. Kill. _

"Connie should have our checks, right?" Ranger got to his feet, Sin moving smoothly to stand behind his left shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem." Vinnie yanked open the door and stuck his weasel face through. "Connie! Put down that goddamn nail file and give this gorgeous girl her money!"

Ranger heard Sin's knuckles crack softly. "Stand down," he murmured. She kicked his ankle again. He grinned and put a hand at the small of her back, guiding her ahead of him. Stephanie looked up from her reading with studied casualness, only for her mouth to drop open slightly and her eyes to glaze over.

"Oh, honey," Sin breathed sarcastically, laughter edging her voice. She turned her head slightly, pitching her voice so only he could hear. "I'm betting she's never seen the full Cuban?"

Ranger gave an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. "Behave," he told her. His attention moved to Connie, and he flashed her a wicked, panty melting smile.

"Hate to interrupt your breakfast, _bella dolce_, but can you get us the cold files to go over? Sin's going to take a crack at them for me."

"Uhm, yeah, uh, just lemme, uhm… "

Connie fumbled over her words and looked helplessly around her desk. Vinnie started haranguing her, making her jump. A cup of coffee went flying, splattering the floor and wall with muddy brown puddles. Sin rolled her eyes and strolled over to the couch.

"I'll wait while you two sort it out."

4.

What a clusterfuck. Sin settled in the couch without acknowledging Stephanie's presence. The girl was still staring at Ranger with her mouth hanging open. Idiot.

Her phone chirped softly, and she pulled it out of her back pocket, smiling at the text from Angel.

_You just had to meddle, huh? _

Her fingers flew over the keyboard. _It's worth it. You getting the feed okay? _

_Oh, yeah. Full technicolor glory. The guys are pissing themselves. _

_You're welcome. I accept payment in Godiva, cashmere, and top quality Italian heels. Tell them to check my Pinterest for ideas. _

She blanked the phone screen and sat back to watch the show. Ranger leaned against Connie's file cabinet, resplendent in straight cut dark wash jeans and a white button down, the crisp cotton rolled back over his forearms. A thin gold chain gleamed at the open neck, drawing the eye to the smooth skin of his throat and the faintest hint of a five o'clock shadow. His hair was a little tousled and damp, as though he'd just rolled out of bed. He looked like a walking Calvin Klein ad, and with his charm turned up and focused like a laser, there was no way there was a set of dry panties in the room.

_He's a damn fine man_, she thought in amusement. _Especially when I dress him._

He gave Connie another brilliant smile and took the files from her hand. The older woman's knees visibly shook. Sin slid her eyes sideways, noting Plum's white knuckled grip on the crumpled folder in her hand.

"He looks okay in black, but… " She deliberately let her eyes sweep over Ranger, lingering just below his belt buckle before turning to give Stephanie a "just us girls" smile.

"Men. If we didn't help them out, they'd walk around in the same rags every day, right?"

Plum choked out something inarticulate, her face rapidly fluctuating between red and white. Sin went in for the kill.

"I'd forgotten how much fun it is to dress Carlos. Ella had to help me dig some real clothes out of the back of the closet." She clicked her tongue ruefully. "He's put on some muscle in his legs. I couldn't find a single pair of boxers that didn't show through his jeans. Not that I mind, but you know he'll complain later."

Something approaching the sound of a teakettle approaching a boil escaped the other woman. Sin giggled softly.

"Well, we all know how to fix that, right? Good thing I did my yoga this morning. Ooh, it looks like he's got everything. Better run!" She stood and stretched, making sure Stephanie got a good look at the stretch of toned stomach between her low rise jeans and lavender blouse.

Ranger's eyes were almost black with unholy amusement as he approached, sliding his hand along her back in familiar possession. He bent to whisper in her ear.

"Careful, sweetheart. Someone looks like she's planning your murder."

Sin turned and breathed her reply along his jawline. "I'll start worrying when she loses the jelly donuts and starts carrying a gun."

Ranger nudged her out the door, shoulders

shaking with silent laughter.

000.

A/N part deux:

Sorry, gotta go to work. Depending on how busy it us, you might get more later. Hopefully, Sin will start laying out her plans more clearly from here on out. I know some of you are waiting to see what happens to Morelli. It's coming.

The meal Sin and Angel make at the beginning is a house favorite around here. It's about 15 mins prep and 15 mins cook time (we like our veggies with some snap), and it's as easy as it was written. Consider it a consolation prize for the damage in going to do later.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I own nothing recognizable, make nothing off this, I'm just a sadistic little puppet master.

Thanks for all the comments. You're right, none of them are really *nice* people. I've known too many ex-military and ex-SF folks to fall for that. They're some of the best people on earth, but they're not exactly built to tolerate nonsense.

For those asking what the game is- *points at Sin* Ask her. I know exactly what she tells me, when she tells me, the rest is just guesses. All I know for sure is that there's not going to be a ring, babies, or picket fences in the future, as writing that stuff would probably put me in a padded room.

So, I may update tomorrow, but it's probably more like Tuesday. Mondays are always a bit hairy around here, and the next stretch promises to be a long one. There's a couple players wanting to get a word in edgewise. Hopefully this gives everyone something to discourage on in the meantime.

1.

Ranger steered Sin out of the bonds office and towards her truck, keeping his hand under the edge of her shirt. His fingers idly traced the outline of the gun tucked almost invisibly into the small of her back. The weight of the eyes following them from the office window was making his shoulderblades itch.

"So, no boxers?" he teased. "Are you sure about that?"

"Unless something has drastically in the last ten years, I'm confident enough to take a bet." Sin turned and leaned back against the passenger door, tilting her face up to him and smiling.

"Your brother's right. You're a _bruja_."

She raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Despite himself, Ranger sighed, letting the playful mask slip.

"That was harder than I thought it would be," he admitted. "Even knowing the score."

"You're a good man," Sin said softly, touching his cheek. "You deserved better."

He allowed himself to press against her cool palm for a moment. For a moment, he considered closing the distance between them, taking the comfort he knew she would offer freely, with no strings or expectations. He'd been lonely before with her.

"I'll catch up with you later," he said gruffly, pulling away. Sin caught him by the lapel before he could turn, stretching up on tiptoe to touch her lips to his and give him a quick wink.

"I'll be around. Angel knows where."

2.

"Damn. That man makes me feel 17 again."

Connie flopped back into her chair, fanning herself with a stack of flyers.

Stephanie barely heard her, her gaze remained fixed on the pair outside the window. Her chest felt hot and tight as she watched them exchange farewells, Ranger loping off to his Turbo and that little blonde _slut _climbing into the ridiculously large truck.

She was still staring out the window when Lula's Firebird slid into Sin's deserted parking spot. She heaved her spandex clad bulk out from behind the wheel and bustled towards the office door, juggling her huge purse and a bucket of chicken. Her hair was a lavish purple beehive of braids today, complementing her silver tank top and shiny black pants. Purple knee high boots with spike heels completed the ensemble.

"Hey, White Girl! Hey Connie! Ooh, we got donuts!" The battered Naugahyde couch creaked beneath her weight as she flopped down. Stephanie felt a headache building behind her eyes.

"Lula, you gotta help me get these files done," Connie whined. "I can't find anything."

Lula started to say something, but Stephanie couldn't take anymore. She bolted from the building, ignoring the squawking behind her, and made a beeline for Big Blue. She needed to go home and figure out where things had gone so wrong.

3.

Sin tapped another name into her laptop and set her search parameters. Tucked into a corner booth at Pino's, she had a clear view of the doors and the dining room.

She sipped her Coke as she waited for the program to run. She knew she was attracting attention, but since that was the point, she let the looks and whispers slide past her. It was all part of the plan.

Cynthia Rodriguez knew herself very well. Essentially coldblooded, she cared little about the people outside her own handpicked circle. She could only think of one person she truly loved, her younger brother, Angel.

Angel's father had come into her life when she was 3, a big, quiet man with a blacked out tattoo on his bicep and a sweet, rare smile. He'd met her mother at a crummy diner just outside Ft. Benning, GA, and suddenly there was a new, clean house to live in, clothes that didn't have holes worn into the seams, shoes that didn't pinch.

She thought the two happiest days of her life had been the day her mother married Marco Rodriguez, and the day, 7 months later, he had carried her into the hospital and handed her the swaddled bundle that was her baby brother.

Marco had been a good father, she thought. He worked long hours, sometimes even leaving for weeks at a time, but he'd always had time to talk to his children, read to them from books far more interesting than Dr. Suess rhymes, teach them how to do things like fix a lawnmower or build a fire without matches.

It had been Marco who realized that she lacked something in her genetic makeup that left her detached from most of society. Rather than punishing her for her nature, he'd taught her to use it, encouraging her to study the things she excelled at, fostering her empathy in the narrow scope it encompassed. He pulled a few strings to bring her to the attention of the right people. By the time she graduated high school, more than one alphabet agency was waiting to offer her a job.

Her first assignment had been small, a two bit gang running a human trafficking circle in Chicago. She'd infiltrated the operation by posing as a runaway, identified the victims, and collected the evidence that led to the eventual raid and conviction of the gang members.

No one had questioned why the ringleader, who had a taste for torturing young boys, castrated himself before committing suicide.

During her mandatory debriefing, the department shrink had asked her about her feelings on having to use prostitution as a cover. Sin smiled to herself, remembering the consternation on the woman's face at her reply.

"It's just another weapon. We ask soldiers to turn their bodies into weapons every day. I can't break a terrorist's neck with my bare hands, but I can be just as deadly to a different kind of enemy, in my own way."

She had been an excellent weapon for seven years, in half a dozen countries. She'd run the gamut from strung out street waif to a madame so exclusive that even sheikhs waited for weeks to get an appointment with her or her "girls." Unlike most of her counterparts, she'd never experienced burnout or stress disorders related to the job, taking the assignments in stride and collecting lucrative perks along the way.

Angel had gone on to join the Rangers, following in his father's footsteps. It had been a joint operation between her agency and his that had sent both of them out of the field permanently. Her lower back twinged at the memory, and she shifted in her seat, pulled out of her thoughts by the phantom pain.

She didn't dwell on the utter disaster that operation had turned into. They'd made it home, thanks to Ranger and Tank. Her only regret was that Angel had taken the most damage. She thought of his face over dinner, the deep lines pain had carved around his mouth, the hollow cheekbones, the strands of silver that had turned his hair to salt and pepper at only 27.

She owed Ranger the world for saving her baby brother, and giving him a new mission in life when depression and PTSD had almost killed him. If she had to sit in a grungy, grease soaked restaurant and let the local wags ogle her, so be it. She'd had worse evenings.

4.

Morelli stopped at the takeout counter to place his order, glancing around to see if any if his friends had decided to grab a quick meal for themselves. His gaze sharpened when he saw Ranger's new BEA sitting alone in a booth, a pair of silver rimmed reading glasses perched on her nose and her eyes glued to her computer screen.

"Ms. Rodriguez, what a pleasant surprise."

She looked up at him and smiled. He took the opportunity to glance down her skirt, approving of the softly mounded cleavage in the discreet vee of her lavender blouse.

"Detective Morelli, right?"

"The one and only. What's a pretty lady like you doing eating alone?"

"Overtime." She shrugged and rolled her shoulders back, reaching up to rub her neck as though it was stiff. "I'm working on the Lost Cause file for Plum Bail Bonds. Someone recommended this place as a good spot to catch a meal while I was working."

"I don't see any food," he pointed out. She laughed, looking down self-consciously.

"Yeah, I guess I got sidetracked."

"Well, as Trenton's unofficial welcome committee, I'd be honored to buy you dinner. On one condition."

"What's that?" she retorted, her eyes dancing.

"That I join you, of course."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

With any luck, I'm headed to the rapid weight loss camp fairly soon. So until then, I'm going to get as much as I can done, although its going to be shorter posts. It may be really rough, if I completely toss the plot, leave me a note in the comments and I'll try to edit/clarify/correct after.

I don't own anything, make no money, blah blah blah.

1.

The Core Team lounged around their usual table at the back of Shorty's, the remains of four large pizzas and several rounds of beers littering the table. Ranger shook his head, smiling a little and settling into a chair next to Angel.

The waitress wordlessly set a fresh Corona beside him and started clearing away empties. Les gave her a flirtatious look and got a giggle in return. Tank kicked him under the table.

"Good to see you, man," Cal said, lifting his beer to Ranger. "It's been a while since you came out for a guy's night."

"Not that long," Ranger started to say, then frowned. It had been months. Color rise asking his cheekbones as he realized how far he'd withdrawn from his team. "Well, shit."

The team broke out into laughter, and looked from man to man, baffled.

"The Sin Effect." Angel smirked ruefully. "I did the same thing."

"Gotta say, I'm glad to have her back on our side," Tank confessed. "Even if she does spook the shit out of me, she has a way of keeping everyone together. No offense, Rodriguez."

"None taken." Angel shrugged and tilted his empty bottle at the waitress, watching the screen over Tank's head. She brought him another, and Ranger frowned, sending Bobby a quick question with his eyes.

"Relax, Papa. It's non alcoholic." Angel shifted his hip to a more comfortable position, his eyes never leaving the television. Ranger relaxed. Conversation shifted away from work to football and girlfriends.

"You know what we need?" Cal looked around the table. A slight pink flush told them he'd reached the pleasantly tipsy stage. "We need a poker night. Scotch, cigars, the works. When was the last time we did that?"

Les snorted. "Hell. I don't remember, man. Detroit, maybe?"

"Phoenix." Ranger drained his beer, contemplated another. "It was that last job in Arizona."

Silence crashed down on the table, everyone looking anywhere but at Rodriguez. Cal's cheeks reddened further and he looked down at his empty bottle. Angel grunted and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Get over it. I have." He snagged a passing waitress. "Tell Shorty to send over another round, sweetheart. My buddies here are turning into pussies. And bring me a Corona, this time." He slid a twenty into her hand and she slipped away with a giggle.

Ranger's phone buzzed and he glanced down at it, seeing it was a text from Micah, the new recruit he'd partnered with Sin on the bonds.

_CR at Pinos with JM. Was supposed to meet up to pick up a night owl. Plum coming in hot. ?_

_Stay out of it unless there's blood. Call me if it gets too ugly. _

_10-4. CR is recording. _

Ranger chuckled softly and put his phone away, picking up the cold bottle that had appeared on the table in front of him. He pondered his feelings for a moment, and realized suddenly that for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt no anxiety. No one needed him to babysit, or rescue them. He could take a night off, shoot the breeze with his brothers in arms, and unwind.

"You know," he said thoughtfully. "A poker night sounds like a good idea."

2.

The ringing of the phone interrupted Stephanie's frantic cleaning spree of her apartment. She looked at the caller ID before she answered.

"Hey, Connie. What's up?"

There was a muffled clank of dishes in the background, and the sound of someone shooting orders.

"Oh my God, Stephanie! I stopped by Pino's to get dinner, right? And here's Joe Morelli, cuddled up in a booth with Ranger's new piece. Everyone's getting an eyeful, and I thought I'd better let you know before someone called your mother."

Stephanie stared at the blank television screen, red haze creeping in on the peripheral edges of her vision.

"Thanks, Connie." She disconnected in the middle of Connie's excited rundown of details. She was halfway across the parking lot before she realized she'd left the building.

The Buick's engine roared like a wounded elephant, tires squealing as she rocketed out into traffic. She didn't even hear the angry shouts or blowing horns.

Pino's was packed with the Burg dinner crowd. She double parked and slammed through the doors, narrowed eyes darting around the restaurant. Connie hurried towards her, but she shook off the older woman, focusing in like a laser beam on the corner booth where Morelli was putting the Italian Stallion routine through its paces.

"You jackass!" she shrieked, descending on the table. "_This_ is why you couldn't come over tonight? _This_ is what you had to _work late_ on?"

"Cupcake? Hey, what the fuck!" Joe jumped up, barely missing getting drenched with his own beer. The family in the booth behind him wasn't so lucky, and there was an outraged bellow, followed by the wails of a soaked toddler. Glass shattered, and people scrambled out of the fallout zone.

"And you!" Stephanie rounded on the blonde sitting calmly on the red pleather bench. "What kind of whore flaunts herself around town with someone's boyfriend?"

Sin raised an eyebrow, her face pleasantly blank.

"Sugar, I'm not flaunting anything," she drawled, amusement coloring her words. "I didn't know that talking shop over a meal was 'flaunting' in Jersey. Where I come from, we just call it working." She flicked a lazy hand towards her laptop and the stack of files.

Stephanie's hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palm. Connie was at her shoulder again, trying to drag her away, but she wrenched away, her rage focused on the bounty hunter in front of her. Sin picked up her soda and sipped at it. Setting it back on the table with a precise click of plastic on laminate, she shrugged.

"But since I'm looking at the results of what you've been calling work, I guess you wouldn't know about that, would you?"

Everything went red, and sounds dissolved into a rush of white noise. Stephanie launched herself at the blonde. Morelli's half eaten meatball sub was the first weapon that came to have, and she grabbed at it, intent on flinging marinara drenched meat at the other woman.

"You bitch! Fucking whore!" A mix of English and Italian cursed came spilling out of her in an incoherent torrent, until the handful of sub she'd chucked at Sin rebounded at her, catching her full in the face.

She clawed at her eyes, clearing them enough to see Sin still holding one of the laminated menus while she slid her computer and files into her bag with the other hand. Morelli grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back, and frog-marched her out of the restaurant.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you, Cupcake?" he shouted, releasing her with a little more force than necessary. She stumbled forward a couple steps before regaining her balance and Firebird to face him.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" she raged. "Some skinny blonde bitch shows up in town, acting like some celebrity bounty hunter, and all of a sudden everyone is sniffing under her skirts. Including MY boyfriend! You're worse than a dog, practically humping her leg in there, making me the laughingstock of the Burg!"

"You're always the laughingstock of the Burg!" he fired back. "You're just pissed off that someone who's actually good at their job moved in and stole the spotlight! Hell, Stephanie, she's brought in more FTAs in a week than you have all month!"

"Well maybe if I had everyone kissing my ass like she does, I'd be bringing in more too! She must give a hell of a blowjob, since that's all you men care about anyway!"

Morelli's jaw tightened as he visibly ground his teeth. "I'm not going to argue with you when you're acting like a crazy woman," he gritted out. "Go home, Cupcake. Sleep it off, whatever it is. Maybe get on Craigslist and look for a real job, instead of rampaging around town like a jealous bitch."

He looked around at her car, still idling at the street. "And get that thing out of here before you get a ticket."

He turned on his heel and stalked back into the restaurant. The adrenaline left Stephanie in a rush, leaving her sick and shaky. She stumbled back into Big Blue and drove slowly away. She needed a donut. Or maybe a drink.

Her answering machine was flashing when she dragged herself back into her apartment. She closed her eyes in resignation and ignored it, making her way to the fridge. A few lonely olives swam in a jar full of brine, and something that might have once been green was growing slime in the bottom of the crisper.

"Fuck me," she whispered, dragging open the freezer. She dug into the ice bin, the chill creeping down her spine having little to do with the shards of ice digging under her nails.

"Goddamn it," she whimpered, sliding down to sit against the counter. She let her wrists fall limply across her drawn up knees, staring blankly down at herself. Her ratty sweatpants were covered in streaks of red sauce, and a congealed chunk of ground beef and sausage clung to her t shirt between her breasts and belly button.

Reluctantly, she dragged herself to her feet and into the bathroom. One side of her face was covered in drying flakes of food, her hair stiff with it. She had a flashback of Sin standing there, watching as Morelli dragged her spitting and screaming out of Pino's, cool and collected, with not a speck of sauce anywhere. She'd looked bored.

That bitch.

Fury gave her a spurt of energy, and she ripped her clothes off, climbing in the shower before the water had time to warm. The cold spray hurt, which only made her angrier. She scrubbed get skin viciously, lathering her hair clean before applying a hair masque. The plan starting to form in her mind required more than just a ponytail and a winning smile.

_She thinks she's going to take what's mine? We'll see about that._ She just needed to make a quick stop at the pharmacy, first.

3.

Tank dumped Ranger unceremoniously on his couch, a wide grin splitting his dark face.

"Home safe, old man," he rumbled. Ranger gave him a lopsided smile and listed slightly to the left.

"Thanks, Tank." He snickered. "Heh, that rhymes."

Tank laughed out loud.

"You're a lightweight, Manoso. Gotta work on that. Mats, 0500?"

Ranger nodded a little too vigorously and tilted right. The damn couch kept moving, and it was screwing with his balance. Tank raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Second thought, I'm relieving you of command. You're taking tomorrow off." He folded his arms across his massive chest and glared down at his friend. "That's an order, soldier."

"I rang... Ran.. out.. OutTank you!" Ranger stuttered indignantly. Tank just snorted in derision.

"Yeah, right up until you started trying to go shot for shot with Les. Sleep it off, man. The world won't fall apart if you take some down time."

Tank gave the coffee table a considering look and nudged it further away from the couch, just in case. Dropping Ranger's keys onto the polished wood, he gave his friend a gentle squeeze of the shoulder and let himself out.

Ranger allowed himself to slide sideways on the couch, flopping into a comfortable enough position and closing his eyes. Part of his brain knew he was sloppy drunk. The rest was just floating in a happy haze created by alcohol and the uncomplicated companionship of the men who had become his family. He'd needed the reconnection- they'd needed the reconnection. He tried to remember why he'd started pushing them away to arms length, but his brain was drifting about the feet out of his skull and refused to concentrate.

Blindly, he fumbled with the remote on the couch arm above his head. After a moment, he managed to turn on the music. The playlist shuffled over to a Bastille song, and he dropped the remote, drifting into sleep with his booted toes twitching slightly to the beat.

The phone rang, dragging him out of his comfortable doze. He slapped his pockets for a moment, just wanting to make the damn thing shut up.

"Yo," he barked, bringing a hand up to rub between his eyes. For a moment there was silence, then he heard a hiccuping little catch of breath.

"Ranger?"

He cursed silently. I should have blocked her number.

"It's late, Plum. What do you want?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry." Stephanie sniffled and swallowed audibly. "I shouldn't have called, but I didn't know who else to… Ranger, I'm so sorry. "

"Me too," he muttered. Her breathing hitched again. Fuck. She sounded so broken.

"Please, can we just… talk?" she pleaded. "I feel like I'm going crazy. I've been so stupid... "

The sound of her strangled tears tugged at his soul.

His hands shook as he pried himself out of the sucking depths of the couch cushions. The coffee table had been shoved too far out of reach and he grimaced, leaning forward to set his phone on it and drag it back. He hit the speaker function and sent a text down to the control room.

_Yo. Have whoever is on duty track Plum's location. See if anyone is close enough to get eyes on. I want a visual. _

She was still talking, rambling.

"I don't know what I've been thinking lately. Morelli, and my mom, and all the crazy things going on, they just had me really messed up, ya know? I didn't realize how much you mean to me. I know I've been a shitty person to you. I just... " she broke down into more of those quiet sobs. "I don't think I can handle losing you. Even if I can only be your friend."

"What do you want from me, Stephanie? It's-" he glanced at his watch- "almost 2am."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just… I couldn't sleep, and I started driving around. Could we meet somewhere? Have a drink, or coffee, or something? I just really need to talk to you."

Ranger's text notification flashed, and he pulled up the message. He recognized the bar address, a hole in the wall dive a few blocks away. The phone buzzed again, and pictures started coming through.

He thumbed through the images, his blood starting to boil slowly. If he hadn't seen them, he thought viciously, he would have fallen for it. The woman lounging in the back of the bar, checking her eyeliner in her compact, certainly looked nothing like the confused, sorry woman on the other end of the line.

He scrolled through them again, taking in the staging with a strategist's eye. The curls were tousled and careless, but there was an unusual sheen and sleekness to the curls. He'd bet they smelled like flowers and vanilla. The smudging around her eyes could have been from crying, but more likely a good eyeshadow pallet. Her skin was creamy and luminous in the dim lighting, he could almost taste the powder and highlighter.

Loose, clingy dress, too light for the chill creeping into the fall nights. He could tell from the way the folds fell around her, she'd pulled out the top of the line push up bra and panty sets she saved for special occasions. For a woman who was falling apart, she certainly looked like she'd put a lot of effort into it.

"Ranger?" she queried softly, her voice uncertain. "Are you still there?"

He ended the call without responding. His finger hesitated for a moment, then he pushed the button to block the number.

_Any instructions_? The control room texted.

_No, pull out. Just needed to confirm. _

He flung himself back into the couch cushions, his hands working helplessly at his side. He needed a drink. He needed something to punch. He needed to get out of town. He needed… something.

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee, then went back to the living room. He looked down at his phone, hands shoved into his pockets. After a moment, he grabbed it and dialed a familiar number.

"Hey. It's Carlos."

A/N:

Ha. Things are probably going to snowball from here, BUT… I've got somewhere I have to be at the moment, so you get a cliffhanger. I'll try to post the next part later.

For anyone familiar with my old username/writing (WrongFromGo) - there will be smut! You're welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:

I own nothing. No money in my pockets. Feel free to light a lucky candle for me to remedy that situation.

As promised, smut. As usual, it's not sweet, sweet love we're making here. IF YOU'RE OFFENDED BY GRAPHIC SEX AND POSSIBLE SQUICK, STOP READING. Or don't, but don't say I didn't warn you ahead of time.

A/N 2:

Sorry so short. Little distracted. I'll get back to it asap.

1.

Sin yawned as she stepped off the elevator, rubbing her arms briskly. She hadn't bothered to dress when he called, just shoved her feet into a well worn pair of ballet flats and pulled a brush through her hair. The loose palazzo pants and lightweight muslin blouse were comfortable, but even the short trip between her brother's house and Rangeman had left her chilled.

Ranger's door stood ajar, and she slipped through it, following the scent of coffee and soap into the kitchen. He was standing by the refrigerator, shirtless and barefoot, moodily staring into the depths of his cup. She gave him a two fingers wave and reached past him for a mug and the coffee pot.

They stood in silence, leaning against the granite countertops and drinking their coffee. She waited patiently. Whatever was on his mind, he'd tell her in his own sweet time, and she didn't mind savoring the warmth of the rich gourmet roast while he took it.

"She called," he finally said. Sin set her cup aside and leaned back on her elbows.

"She called me up crying. Begging. And the whole time she's sitting in a bar three blocks away, touching up her makeup and setting me up for a sucker fuck." A shudder rolled down his body, a muscle in his jaw pulsed.

"I'm a goddamn Ranger. I've run black ops on damn near every continent on the fucking planet, and I got snowed by some backwater Jersey Madonna wannabe. How the hell did I miss it? How the fuck did I not see the con? I had to have it pointed out to me by my fucking ACCOUNTANT!" His rant ended in a roar, and he flung his mug into the wall, showering the kitchen in shards of ceramic and coffee.

Sin stayed still, her eyes steady on his face. Something that could have been coffee or blood trickled down her collarbone and under her shirt. His eyes followed it, black and glittering with anger and frustration.

"Shit, Sin, I'm sorry," he growled, shoving his hands through his hair. He grabbed a tea towel off the oven handle and offered it to her.

"What do you need from me?" she asked finally, ignoring the towel. He huffed and tossed it in the sink.

"I don't even know," he muttered. "I just couldn't… this isn't something the team would understand. It's not something you can shoot, or punch, or throw it a window."

"Well, you could," she pointed out evenly. "But then you have to hide the body."

It startled a laugh out of him, and he raised his head to look at her. Ironic humor glinted in his eyes. "You're the only woman I know who would crack a joke about this."

He picked the towel back up and crossed the kitchen, pressing it gently to her shoulder. He pulled it away, grimacing at the spots of red.

"I'm sorry," he said again, guilt and anger still warring on his face. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Sometimes we just need to break something." She still reclined against the counter, her body relaxed and face serene. He leaned into her, dropping his forehead against hers.

"What do you need from me?" she asked again, gently. His hands came to rest on her hips, trembling. She shifted against him slightly, stroking his arms from shoulder to elbow. His fingers dug into her skin, bruising, and she lifted her head to meet his mouth.

He tasted like coffee and anger, salty and bitter and faintly sweet. His mouth moved from hers to her neck, and he set his teeth into the tender spot just below her ear.

"I need something to break," he breathed against her skin.

"You can try," she invited teasingly. She barely heard the ghost of a chuckle he responded with. His hands fisted in her hair, dragging her head back to a painful angle so he could put his lips on her throat again, teeth and tongue leaving dark red marks on the white skin.

She whimpered for him, and he groaned, letting go of her hair and clawing at her top, the flimsy material shredding under his hands. She pushed back against him, popping open his jeans deftly. He hissed when her nails dug into his hips and drew bloody lines down his butt as she shoved them down to his thighs. His teeth found her nipples as he yanked her pants and panties down and pulled her out of the puddle of cloth, kicking his own clothes away.

She let her brain shut down and rode the sensations, letting him take his anger out on her. His skin was hot and smooth under her hands, giving way under her nails when she drew them down his back. His spine flexed and bowed under her touch and he cursed in Spanish, dragging her down to the floor. He kissed her again his hands hard against her thighs and ass as he pulled her up against him. She threaded her fingers through his silky hair and opened to him, letting him drown.

2.

_Dios, I need this,_ Ranger thought, pulling Sin's body against his. Her skin felt as cool and good as silk against his oversensitive flesh. Her hands in his hair, her long legs wrapped around him, felt like a balm.

He pulled back to look at her for a moment, shocked momentarily to see the bruises from his mouth and hands blossoming on her skin like rose petals. He hesitated and she shifted underneath him, pulling his hair painfully.

"No thinking." Her hips lifted, stroking him as intimately as possible, slicking him with heat as straightforward as her heavy lidded gaze. He closed his eyes against the sensation, his arms rebuild with the strain of holding his weight above her. Her fingers circled him, adjusted him, and he lost the last thread of control.

"Fuck," he gasped, burying himself inside her with one long thrust. Sin twisted underneath him and he groaned, nuzzling his head into her shoulder. His whole body throbbed, demanding that he move. He pushed onto his knees, smoothing his hands down her body until she lay arched beneath him, white and gold against the dark tiles. She reached for him and he snarled at her, pinning her wrists by her shoulders. She struggled, and something dark washed over him, taking rational thought with it.

He wanted to break the bitch. Her bones grinding under his hands, the small sound of pain that caught in her throat, the scent of flowers and sex rising from her skin, he wanted all of it. In this moment, he wanted to be selfish. He dragged himself out of her a slow inch at a time, crouching over her like a beast to drag his teeth over her shoulder, her breast. She writhed under him, hips straining upward. He stopped, the head of his cock just barely wedged into her entrance.

He raised his head and kissed her again, plundering her mouth until she wrenched her face away, gasping for breath. Her lips were swollen and crimson, her eyes glazed and dark.

"Close your eyes," he growled, not wanting to see her, just wanting to feel. Her eyelashes fluttered down, and he slammed his own closed as he drove into her, pounding towards oblivion.

3.

Sin stroked her hands gently down Ranger's shoulders and back, soothing the tremors that still ran through him like electricity. She ached, not all of it in a good way, and his weight was making it hard to breathe, but she could tolerate it a little longer.

"I'm sorry." He lifted his head, finally, his eyes wet and red rimmed. He touched the bruises on her throat and shoulder with gentle fingers, his face stricken. "Dios, Sin… "

"I'm fine," she lied with a smile. "I don't break that easy." He rolled off her and staggered to his feet before reaching down to lift her. A muscle spasmed in her lower back and her hip buckled.

"Shit." He scooped her up and carried her slowly towards his bedroom. "I hurt you."

"I'm fine," she repeated, a little sharply. The last of the endorphins had faded under the stabbing pain, and she just wanted to stay still until it passed.

"You're so pretty when you lie," he said with rueful affection. She gave him a tired smile.

"Yeah, I know. I just need a hot shower, really."

He carried her into the bathroom and settled her on the long counter beside the sink, holding her until she was steady. He turned away and started the shower, pulling a stack of towels from the shelf. Sin leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

"Sin, sweetheart." Ranger's voice shook, and her eyes flew open, going to him in concern. He was staring at the mirror in horror. "I'm calling Bobby."

"What?" she asked peevishly, turning her sore neck to try and look over her shoulder.

"Don't… fuck, Sin, why didn't you say something?" he exploded. He came forward with a towel, pressing it against the back of her shoulder. It came away soaked in crimson and she felt a distant tingle of pain. She turned to try and get a glimpse of the damage and Ranger swore, softly. Sin surveyed the gash in her shoulder and the dozens of seeping cuts dispassionately.

"Well, that's inconvenient." She pushed herself gingerly to the edge of the countertop, stretching her toes towards the floor. "Help a girl out here, please?"

He gave her his arm wordlessly and she eased herself to the ground, leaning on him heavily as she hobbled into the steaming spray of the shower. She tilted her face into the water, ignoring the pink swirls around her feet.

"Sin."

Ranger's hands moved carefully over her body, washing the wounds on her back tenderly. She heard the occasional plink of porcelain on tile as he removed shards of pottery from her skin. Her muscles slowly began to unwind, and she sagged against the wall, fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't fall asleep on me just yet," he cajoled, pulling her back against his body. She opened her eyes just enough to glare at him.

He gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes and reached out to turn off the water. Swaddling her in towels, he carried her to the bed, folding the thick comforter over her. She sighed and let her eyes close again, welcoming the wave of darkness that rose up and tumbled her down into sleep.

4.

Ranger sat on the bed beside his friend, trying to stop the shaking in his hands. He'd gone back into bathroom to grab his first aid kit and come back to find her deeply asleep, oblivious to the blood that was slowly seeping through the layers of terrycloth.

He took a deep breath and rolled her to her stomach, wincing when she moaned softly. He peeled back the towels, his stomach churning as he looked at the carnage on her back. Most of it was superficial, but at least one needed stitches.

He cleaned and bandaged the wounds as best he could before yanking on a pair of jeans and going in search of Bobby on the fourth floor.

The medic opened his door in response to his knock, his sidearm held down by his thigh, his eyes alert. He relaxed when he saw Ranger, and he swung the door open wider.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, his throat rough with sleep. He looked at his watch. "It's almost dawn, man. Everything okay?"

Ranger shook his head. "I need you. Now. Bring your kit."

The last traces of sleep vanished and Bobby turned back into his apartment, grabbing the combat kit from beside the door and stepping out into the hallway. He followed his boss into the apartment in seven without question, only pausing briefly when he saw the woman curled on the bed.

"What the fuck, man," he muttered. His gaze was unfriendly as he looked across Sin's prone body, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"You better not tell me you're the one who did this to her," he hissed.

"Not intentionally." Ranger met his friend's gaze steadily. "You have my word, Bobby, I did _not_ mean to hurt her."

"He didn't," Sin murmured wearily from the bed. "Not his fault. Nerve damage. Didn't know there was glass under us."

Bobby looked down at her incredulously.

"You're telling me you have nerve damage so severe you didn't realize you were…" he choked, turning crimson. "Doing whatever you were doing, on fucking broken glass?"

"Got the words right, wrong order." Sin yawned without opening her eyes. "S'okay. 'M fine."

Bobby snorted in disbelief and started checking underneath the bandages. He replaced most of them, but pulled two away and reached into his bag.

"Hey, Sin, need to put a couple stitches in, okay," he told her softly. She shrugged slightly and rolled over onto her stomach. The comforter shifted, sliding down below her hips, and Bobby raised an eyebrow at the bruises, giving Ranger a dark look.

Ranger rubbed a hand over his face, refusing to meet Bobby's accusing eyes. The medic stitched carefully, mindful of the ornate tattoo that ran down Sin's back and hips.

Once finished, he pulled the covers over her and jerked his head towards the kitchen. Ranger followed reluctantly.

"I'm assuming there's more to the story, so I'm not going to call you out, Manoso. But you'd better come up with something real good, real fast, because if Rodriguez sees her, he's going to shoot your dick off first and ask questions later."

"He'd have to get to me before I do," Ranger muttered. "You have no idea how I feel right now."

"Tank told everyone you're taking the day off." Bobby peeled off his gloves and dumped them into the trash, looking around at the wreckage of the kitchen. "Maybe you should take a couple. Looks like you've got some things to work through."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N:

So, in case you haven't guessed, I'm on day 2 of a very slow, obnoxious labor. Good side, I'm getting lots of writing done, because it's a great distraction (and keeps me from resorting to evicting this kid with a spork). Bad side, auto-correct is slipping more and more really bizarre typos past me. Please be kind. I don't normally suffer from Tourettes of the keyboard.

Also, writing smut is kind of odd when you have nothing good to say about anything with testicles (case in point, the Male gets to sleep peacefully while I'm walking around the house typing on my phone). I promise there will be something a little less traumatic later.

I'm working on the next chapter, which is all the Plum Pudding you can handle, but in the meantime, I wanted to give you an idea of what Sin is contemplating, in case I go AWOL after my check in the morning.

As to what Sin herself is up to, and where she'll end up- I have no idea. It's not going to be in a white dress or L&D is all I know.

For those still hoping there's a redemption for Steph in here somewhere- there might be, but it's not going to be anything as simple as realizing the error of ways and hitting up rehab before everyone forgives her.

If you're waiting for Joe to get smacked around a little bit more, it does happen, but he's really just collateral damage in this case. We all know he's an ass, so there's no real profit in beating a dead Italian Stallion.

Most of the established core Merry Men have something to say. They were willing to tolerate Stephanie's shenanigans as long as they thought she was making Ranger happy, but, just like real brothers, they'll beat the crap out of their own, and turn like a pack of wolves on any outsider who dares to try. Also, she's fair game right now, and there's at least one MM who doesn't mind getting his pound of flesh in the carnal sense.

If you were shocked and appalled by Ranger's behavior in the last chapter, good. One of my mild aggravations with him in canon is that, IME, men who have walked through hell with the weight of other people's lives on their shoulders are not teddy bears. They are dragons- sleeping dragons, most of the time, but dragons nonetheless, and when they are pushed past the limits of civility, they burn everything in their path.

On that note - PTSD and mental illness in our veterans is a real thing. If you know or love a veteran, please take a moment or of your day to send them a note, give them a hug and a thank you, or just put a few dollars in a cup or the Wounded Warrior program's coffers. Coming from a large family with members of every military service represented, I can tell you that no matter how good they look on the outside, many of them carry invisible wounds that still fester.

Hopefully you've enjoyed the show so far. I'm not sure how much is left- it's building to a catalyst in the next few chapters, and I have a vague idea if how all the loose ends tie up, but plotbunnies happen. If I had to guess, I'd say we might top or around 12 chapters.

I will keep writing (and posting) up until the time I'm not capable of doing so. If this story goes in the wind, be patient. It should be back in good time (because what else am I going to do while recuperating and being a milk bar?).

Thanks for reading:

Kel


	8. Chapter 8

A/N:

Own nothing, make nothing. From the last real chapter, you've seen the edge of the dark side I write on. If you're a little squicked, I get it, feel free to express your negative reactions as well as positive. It won't hurt my feelings. :)

I really struggled with this chapter, which is why it's so short and vague. Not sure why, it was all there in my head but wouldn't come out on paper. Also, no spawn yet, he's more stubborn than Lula on the hunt for trans fat and sugar. BUT- the two final chapters of this story are written, as well as a couple in between ones roughed out. You should get another update tonight or tomorrow.

1.

"Hey, man, I'll catch up with you later, okay? I've got something to take care of here." Les said to his partner Steve, stripping off his Rangeman shirt and exchanging it for a faded grey tee from the back. Steve nodded, catching the keys to the Explorer mid-air. Les unslung his utility belt and tossed it in, slamming the trunk. He watched the SUV roll away and turned back to the bar. His lips twitched in bitter amusement, and he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his cargo pants, scrolling through his contacts.

"Hey, buddy. Remember when I said you owed me one? I'm calling to collect."

Five minutes later he strolled into the bar, making a beeline for the sour faced woman behind the bar. He managed to coax a half smile and a beer from her. He leaned against the bar, chatting idly with her as she washed glasses.

The mirror that ran across the back wall was filthy and fly speckled, but he could still make out Stephanie at her table, dialing and redialing her phone in rising frustration. She slammed it into her purse finally and stalked towards the bar.

"I need a shot,"she snapped. "I don't care what."

The bartender rolled her eyes heavenward and pulled down a bottle of Everclear. Les smothered a grin and turned to face Stephanie. She slapped money on the bar and grabbed the short glass, throwing it back like a seasoned sorority sister. He waited until she was choking to speak.

"Beautiful? What are you doing here?"

"Les," she wheezed, steadying herself against the bar. She wiped her streaming eyes and focused on him. "I was… uhm.. Just driving around."

"Not like that, I hope." He offered her a hand and pulled her onto the stool next to him. He brushed her hair back from her eyes gently, frowning at her. "You okay?"

She looked up at him, and he saw the flicker of triumph and decision in her blue eyes before she dissolved against him in tears. He patted her back gently as she sobbed into his chest, murmuring nonsense in Spanish.

She subsided after a few moments and averted her face as though embarrassed, fumbling in her bag for tissues.

He snagged the bar rag offered to him, glad that most of the storm and fury was manufactured. He didn't really want to walk home covered in Stephanie's snot. He handed it to her, noting how she carefully rubbed and wiped at her eyes and nose, giving her just the right amount of pink to indicate real tears.

"Let's get outta here," he suggested, tossing some money on the bar. "I think a walk would do you good."

He threw his arm over her shoulders as they made their way out into the night. She surrendered her keys without complaint, and he handed her into the passenger side before taking the wheel. They rode in silence to the riverside park, although he felt her appraising eyes on him as he navigated through the dark streets.

He took her hand and helped her out of the Buick before tugging her towards the jogging path. They walked companionably for a few minutes before he spoke.

"So, what's wrong, beautiful?"

For a moment, he thought she wouldn't take the opening. She took a deep breath and blew it out, and then the dam broke. He guided her towards a nearby bench, listening with half an ear and making sympathetic noises occasionally while rubbing her back.

_Christ, is __**anything**_ _ever her fault?_ he thought, nodding along as Morelli, her mother, the Burg en masse, Lula, and Vinnie took turns under the bus. He stiffened when she mentioned "that blonde woman" Ranger had humiliated her with, but forced himself to relax, cuddling her in close and murmuring encouragement.

"It's just not fair!" she wailed. "And I don't even know how everything went so wrong!"

"Hey, now. It'll be okay," he soothed. "You'll see."

"Really?" She sniffed and looked up at him, her pretty blue eyes wide and glistening. "You'll talk to Ranger for me?"

"Of course," he lied easily, brushing the dampness off her cheeks with the backs of his knuckles and tilting her face up to his. "Anything for you, Beautiful."

"You're a good friend, Les," she said, smiling up at him. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms and she snuggled in against his side, giving a dramatic shiver. "Sheesh, it's getting cold out here."

Go time.

"I can fix that," he said, turning and scooping her up into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down against him. She squeaked and started to pull up just he "accidentally" moved his hands up her back, flipping her skirt up in the back.

"Hey Bombshell! This way!" someone shouted. Stephanie jerked around at the sound and was blinded by a barrage of flashbulbs. She yelped, and Les hid a grin as he moved, spinning her off to the side and lunging after the retreating photographer.

"Go home," he barked, tossing her keys at her. "I'll deal with this."

Shaken, she grabbed the keys and ran for Big Blue as he disappeared into the night. He vanished into the shadows, listening until he heard the big V8 roar to life and tires squeal.

Grinning, he sauntered to the pre-agreed meeting spot and waited. A few seconds passed before a short, slightly chubby man jogged up, clutching a camera to his chest.

"Fuck, Santos," he panted. "I thought you were going to kill me, the way you came after me."

"All part of the game," Les shrugged. "Let's see what you've got."

Wiping sweat off his forehead with a sleeve, the little man leered.

"Oh, it's good. Take a look." He handed the camera over to Les, letting him scroll through the photos. An evil grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling.

"These are great," he said, nodding over the series of photos. They were subtle, but angled so well that they looked more damning than they were. Stephanie at the bar, throwing back her shot, cuddling up to Santos, all the way through to the final shot of her straddling his lap on the bench, head thrown back and her lacy thong exposed. No matter how innocent the interaction had really been, the photos looked downright salacious. He skimmed them again, nodding in approval at how he was almost completely anonymous in every shot.

"Perfect, man. You can get them in?"

"Not for today's paper, but tomorrow, definitely. It's been a slow week, but my editor loves Bombshell stuff. This will give the beauty shop crowd something to talk about. Plum's always good for the sales numbers, ya know?"

Les chuckled, he'd been counting on it. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and passed over some bills.

"Consider it a bonus, on top of the favor being cleared," he said, slapping the photographer on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Santos. You need a ride anywhere?"

"I'm good." Les waved his accomplice off and headed back to Haywood, thumbs in his pockets, whistling.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N:

Not my circus, not my monkeys, they belong to JE. I just snuck in to feed them crack laced bananas and open the cages. Having fun yet?

1.

The morning meeting was struggling against an undercurrent of rowdy hilarity. Hector's phone was being passed from hand to hand, beefy shoulders and buzz cuts huddling together over it, and Less was spinning in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face and a devilish glint in his eyes. Tank finally slapped a massive hand down on the table, getting everyone's attention.

"Would anyone care to share with the class what's so damn funny over there?" he rumbled, glaring at the culprits.

Hector grinned and passed his phone to Tank. Tank looked down at the video. "What's this?" he asked. The angle of the camera was odd, and he found himself getting a first person viewpoint of the scene.

"Cynthia has a minicam that looks like an earring. She was recording when that Plum lady went psycho on her at the restaurant." Micah grinned evilly, rubbing his hands together. "My favorite part is when she used the menu to spike that meatball into the cow's face."

Tank found himself joining in the laughter as he watched the video through. He passed the phone to Rodriguez, who was making a rare upstairs appearance.

"I told the boss turning that girl loose in Jersey was just plain mean, but damn. She does have style."

"One of her few redeeming qualities," Angel said with a smile, passing Hector back the phone. He turned to Bobby, lowering his voice as Tank got the briefing back on track. "She texted me and said she threw her back out sparring with Ranger last night. She's taking a couple days off for medical, right?"

Bobby looked away from Angel's ironically amused gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, uhm, I told her to rest up."

"I brought her some clothes and stuff." Angel flicked the small duffel beside his chair with the end of his cane. "You can take it up to seven for me, right?"

Bobby flushed, his dark skin turning plum colored. "Yeah, so, about that… "

Angel laughed softly, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Dude, it's okay. I figured something was up when she took off in her pajamas at three in the morning. And considering that Ranger is conveniently AWOL at the same time, and she told me you took a look at it- well, I'd rather not know what I don't already know, you know?"

Bobby shook his head, his cheeks still uncomfortably hot. "I wish _I _didn't know, bro."

"Well, since you do, you can do me a solid and keep me in a state of blissful ignorance."

Bobby grunted a reluctant agreement and took possession of the duffel. He shook his head at the blase acceptance Angel had of his sister and Ranger doing _things_ rough enough to require medical leave. _Those Rodriguez kids are strange ducks. _

2.

Ranger finished scrubbing the last corner of the kitchen floor and stood up, wincing as his knees cracked painfully. He'd been doing penance by cleaning the kitchen and bathroom while Sin slept, and his body was heavy with exhaustion. He leaned against the sink, letting the hot water run over his sore, chapped hands.

"All I can smell is bleach," a sleepy voice said at his shoulder. Sin's arms slid around his waist, and he felt her lean against him, her cheek laying between his shoulder blades. "Please tell me there's coffee somewhere?"

"Coming up," he replied, struggling for a normal tone. He poured her a cup of coffee and turned carefully to hand it to her. She made a small sound of contentment and gave him a friendly smile.

Ranger shook his head in disbelief. Wrapped up in a sheet, covered in bruises and limping, with her hair a tangled golden halo around her shoulders, she was still calmly smiling at him, her eyes sleepy but twinkling. He never would understand her.

"I'm an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, buried in a conundrum," she agreed cheerfully. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Thinking out loud?" he queried. She grinned and nodded. "Fuck. I need to sleep."

"Okay." She grabbed his hand and tugged him gently towards the bedroom. Bemused, he allowed her to push him down onto the mattress. He toed off the sneakers he'd thrown on to protect his feet while cleaning as she stripped his shirt over his head.

"Pants," she directed. He raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes comically. "Oh, come on. I'm not after your virtue. Nobody sleeps in jeans unless they're crazy or desperate."

He couldn't argue with her logic, so he shimmied out of his pants and allowed her to shoo him up to the pillows. She unwound the sheet from around herself and spread it over him, then tugged the duvet up.

"Stay with me?" he asked, his eyes already getting heavy. "If you want," he amended, guilt rearing its ugly head again. He felt her slide in beside him, her arm draping over his waist, her body curved against him. It felt odd to be the little spoon. Odd, but nice, was his last thought before exhaustion took over and he slept.

3.

Stephanie chewed on her nails while she reviewed her skip paperwork. A couple of Peeping Toms, a shoplifter, and a minor possession charge. Even if she brought them all in, they wouldn't cover her rent, and it was already late.

Her gaze went to the kitchen, her thoughts wandering towards the pills stashed in her freezer. She was twitchy and on edge, and Santos hadn't gotten back to her last night. She scowled. What the hell has that creep with the camera wanted anyway? Normally they only showed up if something was on fire.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Stephanie Michelle!"

She pulled the phone away from her head and sighed as her mother started wailing through the litany of people who had called her about the scene at Pino's.

"It wasn't my fault, Mom. I walked in and saw him talking to Ranger's new bounty hunter after he cancelled our date, and I lost it."

Ms. Plum sniffed. "I raised you better than to get involved in a catfight, Stephanie. I'm sure Joseph had a perfectly good reason for talking with that woman."

Yeah, he wanted to get laid, Stephanie thought, pulling open the freezer door. She popped out a pill and let it dissolve while her mom droned on. She drank some water while Ms. Plum rattled off the night's menu and issues her usual six o'clock ultimatum.

"Not tonight, Mom. I've got to get my files cleaned up. Lots of work to do."

"If you'd just marry Joe," her mother shrieked. Stephanie disconnected and tossed her phone on the counter, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

She grabbed her keys off the counter and scooped up the files, shoving them into her bag. She thought about grabbing her gun, but shrugged it off. She slammed out of her apartment, feeling buoyant and relaxed. She didn't have a plan, but she didn't need one. It would work out. It always did.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N:

I don't own anything. Just having some fun.

1.

She felt a little better after picking up the shoplifter and one of the Peeping Toms. At least, she thought, tucking the body receipts in her bag, she could give Dillon a partial payment. She grimaced, thinking of her empty fridge.

I need to lose weight anyway, she told herself. Shoving thoughts of ice cream and beer out of her head, she muscled the Buick towards Stark Street. She was on a roll. Marcus Frank would be no problem.

The address on the file ended up being a crumbling concrete block tenement that looked like a relic of a civil war. Sagging chain link and waist high weeds didn't improve the curb appeal. Connie's information said Marcus lived on the top floor.

Tucking her cuffs, pepper spray, and sun gun into the utility belt she'd dragged out of the closet, Stephanie pushed open the rusted gate and started up the cracked sidewalk. Something rustled in the weeds, and she shuddered. The warped door creaked open as she knocked.

"Easy as pie," she muttered. She stepped into the dim foyer and immediately sneezed. The air was heavy with dust and a gamey, animal smell. Wrinkling her nose, she squinted through the gloom. Stairs led upward, and she tested them gingerly. To her relief, they seemed solid.

The second floor had better lighting than the first, broken windows letting in the dim sunshine from outside. It smelled worse, though. She coughed, her throat burning from the mingled musk and ammonia smell. Wings flapped and avian screams filled the air. Startled, she bolted up the stairs and ran headfirst into her target. She landed on her ass with a shriek.

A tall, skinny man in dirty overalls, a ripped plaid shirt, and a straw hat loomed over her, holding a pitchfork.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, hefting the farm tool like a baseball bat. "You scared my fucking chickens! Now they'll all be freaked out and stop laying!"

"B-b-bond enforcement," she stammered out. "You missed your court date."

"I ain't got time for court. Who's going to feed my animals? Who's going to deliver the eggs? Who's going to milk my goats?"

"We can get you rebonded," she soothed, struggling to her feet. The back of her jeans felt wet, and she tried not to think about it.

"To hell with that." Marcus turned and disappeared through a doorway. Seeing her rent money walk away, she scrambled after him, fumbling for her stun gun. She found herself in a forest of tomato and pot plants, the air humid and stifling. She batted the leafy branches away from her face, trying to see her target through the greenery.

"Bitch, I _said_ I ain't _going_!"

Stephanie turned to face Marcus just in time to get a face full of foul-smelling sludge. Gagging, she tried to wipe the gunk from her eyes. Marcus grabbed her and pushed her out of his growhouse, muttering under his breath.

"Coming in here, making me waste my good fertilizer. Now I gotta mix up another barrel of fish guts and shit, dumb ass bitch!" Bile rose in Stephanie's throat and she choked.

When her feet hit the rickety porch, he slammed the door behind her. She heard a bolt slide into place, but she was too busy retching over the rusted porch railing to care. She reeked like dead fish and God knew what else, and clods of the smelly brown goo dripped from her clothes and hair.

On the sidewalk, two scrawny hookers were clutching each other and howling with laughter.

"Ooooh-weee, Ms. Bounty Hunter got herself some of ol' Farmer Frank's special sauce! Smells good on you, girlie!"

Stephanie lifted her head and looked through watering eyes towards the place she'd parked Big Blue. The Buick was gone.

A/N:

Super short chapter, because the next three are full of stuff, and I needed to fill in gaps.

My life is sucky and insane right now, but hey, that's the way it goes. If you enjoy my fanfic writing, look up Wild Card and Dead Man's Hand by Kelly Gabriels on Amazon. Sin is an Alt for Lucretia (who is not behaving in Wild Card's sequel), and the whole reason this little romp began.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N:

Not mine, just playing.

Lots of little snippets here, and it's another short filler chapter to make sure everything flows to the end. There's no business like Burg business, after all, and unfortunately, I can't give everyone their own chapter. Burg tradition says its always better to let them do in their own details, right? Pour the coffee and pull out the ironing board, ladies. Hope you've got your Entemann's!

With any luck, you'll get the next chapter this afternoon, it's already written, just needs some touch ups.

1.

Stephanie finally stumbled up the stairs to her apartment sometime after dark. No one had been willing to let her borrow a phone or give her a ride- or even let her within 10 feet of them- forcing her to walk the whole way home. She was swaying with weariness by the time she reached the door and then collapsed against it, realizing that she had no keys.

She looked back at the elevator, debating whether or not to go find Dillon and ask him to unlock her door. It seemed like miles.

_I'll rest for a minute_, she told herself. _Then I'll go get the keys. _She laid her head back against the door and closed her eyes.

_Just for a minute,_ she thought. _I'll be fine in a minute. _

2.

"Stephanie Plum." She jerked awake and looked around, bleary eyed. Her head throbbed painfully and she squinted and the wrinkles uniform slacks in front of her face. Her gaze traveled upwards to see Carl Costanza's unsmiling face.

"Oh my God, I'm glad to see you!" she managed to croak out, struggling to her feet. "My grandma's car got stolen, and my keys, and-"

"We know all about that," Carl interrupted her coolly. "Can you identify the contents of this bag?" he held out a large, clear plastic evidence bag, her purse sealed inside.

"Of course I can. That's my purse! Did you get Big Blue back?"

Carl's face remained blank. He reached for her wrist, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the filth still covering her. "Stephanie Plum, you are under arrest for felony possession of narcotics. You have the right to remain silent… " His voice droned on as he spun her to face the wall, cuffing her wrists behind her back. Big Dog watched silently from near the elevators.

"What the hell, Carl! Big Dog, this is a joke, right?" Stephanie struggled against the cuffs, choking on angry tears. "It's not funny!"

Eddie Garza came up the stairs, holding an official document.

"I've got the warrant," he told Carl. "The super gave me the keys." Big Dog moved forward, pulling on a pair of gloves, and Eddie did the same before unlocking the apartment door. Carl guided her into the living room and stood with her as the two officers carefully went through the small space, Eddie taking pictures of each area before and after.

Her Smith and Wesson went into another plastic bag and was labeled, likewise the few bullets they found rattling around in her junk drawer. Big Dog opened the freezer and carefully went through the meager contents. Stephanie's breath caught as he emptied the ice bucket into the sink.

"Hey, Carl. Jackpot." He held up the tidy blister packs of her supplements in two fingers.

Eddie gave her a look of disgust, taking pictures of the pills and sealing them into another bag.

"Oh my God," she wailed. "Seriously? Those are just European _supplements_! Like vitamins! They're not _drugs_!" She stomped her foot and tried to pull away from Carl. "This is ridiculous!"

"Stephanie," Eddie said. "I'm only going to say this once, because you're family. Shut the fuck up."

3.

Les jogged out into the cool darkness of early morning, whistling softly to himself. It was an easy couple of blocks to the nearest convenience store, and his muscles were just starting to loosen as he strolled in and headed for the coffee bar. The frail old woman behind the counter gave him a gap toothed smile and nodded as he brought his coffee and a newspaper to the counter.

"Good morning, Ms. Sharon," he said, giving her a roguish grin. "Are you ready to run away with me to Tahiti yet?"

She cackled with delight. "One day, I'll say yes and you'll be in big trouble, boy." She made change for him and reached across the counter to give his cheek a fond pat.

Laughing, he carried his purchases out the door and stood under the parking lot light to skim the front page. The headline at the bottom made him choke and spit coffee across the newsprint.

Quickly, he turned back inside and bought five more papers. Dropping money on the counter, he shouted for Sharon to keep the change and took off at a sprint for the Rangeman building, the papers bundled under his arm.

He ducked past Ella in the break room and peeked into the conference room. No one had arrived yet, although a towering stack of folders sat in front of the chair Ranger or Tank usually occupied. Smirking, he distributed the papers around the table and retreated. He couldn't wait to see the reactions.

4.

Joe was humming as he sauntered to his desk. With Stephanie not answering her phone, he'd treated himself to a nice steak dinner the night before, and Bob hadn't puked up anything for two days. He felt fresh and well rested, his choice was hot, and he was ready to take on the day.

He scooped up the newspaper someone had left in his desk and settled into his chair to read it. The bottom quarter of the front page caught his eye and his coffee spoiled in his stomach. Reaching for the economy sized bottle of Maalox in his drawer, he took a healthy gulp and began to read.

**Bombshell Goes Bad! **The text screamed off the page. He stared at the pictures on the following pages, the words barely registering. His Cupcake, downing shots in a seedy bar, cavorting on a park bench, being dragged into the station in cuffs.

"Fuck me," he whispered, rubbing his breastbone hard with his fist, trying to dislodge the lump of lava that had taken up residence there. Pushing back from his desk, he headed down to holding.

He met Eddie coming up the corridor. The other man averted his eyes, and Joe mentally groaned.

"Just tell me," he gritted out.

"Remember that chop shop we were watching? Edna Mazur's Buick showed up. Reasonable cause, so we moved on it. We found Stephanie's purse, loaded up with some designer amphetamines from Europe. She didn't even deny they were hers. Said they were her vitamins."

"Fuck me. Not even Cupcake could be that stupid," he groaned, groping for the Rolaids in his pocket.

Garza shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you, man."

Joe's cell rang, ending the conversation, and he answered it with a bark. "Morelli."

"Detective, this is Reynolds, with Internal Affairs. I need you to come by my office."

"Yeah, sure, I can swing by there at the end of my shift."

"Now, Detective. The Chief and I have some questions for you." The call ended with a click and Joe stared at the phone in horror. His stomach roiled, and he hauled ass for the nearest bathroom.

5.

There were scorch marks in Frank Plum's favorite slacks. The three people sitting around the kitchen table were staring blindly at the array of empty bottles on the kitchen table. The phone sat skewed on the counter, the cord trailing forlornly across the floor.

"No one will ever marry her now," Helen said. Her voice was flat, words crimped in the overly precise staccato of the very drunk.

"Shut up, Helen," Frank replied.

Edna just stared out the window blindly. For the first time, she felt old.

6.

Stephanie kept her head down as the judge read out the charges and set her bail. She looked around under her lashes, expecting to see Connie or Vinnie waiting to step forward. No one was there. The judge prompted her again and she stammered out something, she didn't even know what.

Her head throbbed, her tongue felt twenty times too big and coated in dust. Her body ached. Someone took her arm and led her away, stumbling. Everything went grey and fuzzy, and she fell.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N:

Own nothing (except Sin, and that's debatable. Pretty sure she's the one holding the leash). No money, blah blah blah.

I've pretty much resigned myself to this being a much longer story than I thought. I was thinking it was good to be 12 chapters max, but it keeps needing more. It is getting close to the end, though.

1.

Ranger dropped down on the couch next to Sin, his lips compressed into a thin line. She cut her eyes sideways at him as she accepted the coffee cup he offered. The phone tucked under her leg buzzed, and she ignored it.

"I guess they already filled you in," he muttered. She hummed noncommittally. "Les had no business-"

"Stop."

He glared at her.

"Stephanie hurt their family. She attacked them, not up front like a soldier, but from inside. She betrayed the team. Any one of the guys could have made her disappear. Les did to her what she did to them, to you. Let it ride."

"It wasn't his problem-"

"Carlos." She rolled her eyes. "She got exactly what she had coming. And now she'll either rise or burn. Leave it alone."

He growled at her in Spanish and she shrugged, wincing when her stitches pulled. Residual guilt had made him obedient to the requests of his team, and Ranger had agreed to take a few days off. They'd spent most of the last two days watching old movies and napping. The fine lines around his mouth and eyes had started to relax. Now they were back.

"Come here," she said more gently. She patted her lap, inviting him to stretch out and put his head down. Grumpily, he did.

She stroked his hair softly, massaging his scalp and temples. "I understand it, you know. And so does the team. "

"Understand what?" he grumbled.

"She made you feel like a hero. Like all you did for her balanced out some of the things that you had to do before."

He squirmed a little. "I don't have regrets about what I've done for my country."

"I'd believe you if you were like me, honey, but you're not. None of you are." Sorrow flitted briefly through her eyes. "I love y'all, but you're all better people than I am."

Ranger caught her hand and kissed her wrist. She chuckled and pulled away.

"No, it's true. I've never lost sleep over anything but heartburn. You boys…" her voice trailed off.

"Tank has 17 cats. He can't see a kitten in the street without rescuing it. He sleeps with them curled up all over him. He exhausts himself spoiling them, that way the nightmares don't keep him awake."

"Cal rebuilds all those classic motorcycles, and gives them away to the schools for raffles to fund their votech programs. He stays up until dawn doing custom paint by hand. And when that doesn't work, he gets another tattoo. Angel writes Regency Romance novels under a pen name, although if you tell him I told you that, I'll kill you."

He laughed out loud at that, and she smiled, stroking his cheeks and behind his ears.

"Bobby volunteers at the homeless shelter nearly as many hours a week as he works here, Les goes out and fucks himself blind four times a week with whatever's pretty and available. And you rescued Stephanie. You all throw yourself into these things, trying to find a counterpoint to the dark side."

"I didn't know all that," he mused drowsily.

"It was my job, remember? To find out everyone's secrets, and why they had them, and how to use them, how to play them like chess pieces. I'm the wizard behind the curtain."

"You miss it?" he pushed himself up on his elbows, turning on his side to fix her with his searching gaze. She shrugged.

"I miss the results. I miss seeing bad people getting a taste of their own medicine. I miss seeing hope flicker to life behind the victim's eyes." A wicked little grin curved her lips. "I really miss the power. That was a rush."

He snorted. "You're telling me you did all that shit for a power trip?"

"Oh yeah. Adrenaline addiction is definitely what kept me in the game. Everything else was just a bonus."

Realization spread slowly across his face. "You set all this up, didn't you?"

She met his eyes with a frank, open gaze. "Pretty much. Angel found the problem, and came to me with how to approach you. From that point on.. All me."

"Did you have anything to do with the drugs?" he whispered, his heart in his throat. She gave him a withering glare.

"You know better. She got into that all on her own, I just exploited it."

He nodded, acknowledged that it wasn't Sin's style. She played dirty, but would only stack the deck with the cards she was dealt.

"What's your game?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of his anger. She smiled, lifting her hands innocently. He narrowed his eyes at her and she laughed.

"You'll see," was all she said.

2.

Curled up in the narrow bunk, Stephanie huddled under the scratchy prison blanket, shivering violently. Her skin was on fire, her bones were ice. The slightest sounds reverberated through her like Lula's stereo bass.

She'd screamed herself hoarse begging for someone to call the bonds office, Joe, Ranger, her parents, a doctor. She was sick, she needed help. The guard who finally came to the door had brought a prison doctor who had given her a quick once over and shook his head.

"She's detoxing. It shouldn't be dangerous, she doesn't seem too far gone." No one had come since then, except to drop off a meal tray that she left untouched, her stomach refusing to let even water settle.

Some distant part of her brain still feverishly believed someone would come save her. She was a Burg girl, after all, and the Burg always took care of their own. By the third day, she knew better.

Staring at the puffy faced, cracked lip wreck in the scratched mirror bolted to the wall, she realized just how much trouble she was in. The khaki jumpsuit washed whatever color she might have had out of her skin, and her wet hair frizzed out around her head.

"Plum!" The stocky female guard at the doorway had her arms crossed, her face was stem. "Someone wants to see you."

Hope leapt up in her chest, and she eagerly stuck her wrists out to be cuffed. She hoped it was her parents, surely they'd understand. When the guard bypassed the visitor's area and led her towards the interview rooms, she was slightly disappointed. _It must be Joe_, she thought.

That was okay. She and Joe understood each other. If she could get his dick's attention, she could manage him. Her face fell when the guard opened the door, revealing two strangers in suits.

"Ms. Plum," said the older of the two men, after she'd been seated. The younger was leafing through a stack of papers, ignoring her. "I'm Agent Markham, this is Agent Drummond, with the DEA. We'd like to talk to you about the contents found in your purse."

Agent Drummond finally lifted his head and gave her a shark smile. Stephanie's stomach clenched in fear. Something told her she was in more trouble than ever before.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N:

I'm just borking them for a bit, they belong to JE. Except Sin, and Angel, who are my dear little devils.

The following chapter takes gross artistic license with the legal and justice system. I've never been arrested or dealt with the courts, so I actually have no idea how far off it is, but it's way out there in fantasy world, because that's how Sin needs it to be, and she's the lady behind the curtain.

A recent commenter said something about this story being angry. Erm… a little, I guess, but aimed at nothing in particular. I haven't been reading the JE books for long, I binged all 25 in 10 days a couple months back, so I haven't had much time to stew over it. I write fanfiction when I'm stuck on original works, so it usually has a nasty edge. This isn't really that bad, considering. ;) My Repo stuff is way worse.

1.

Bewildered, Stephanie stood on the courthouse steps the next morning, blinking in the glare of the autumn sunshine. Twenty four hours ago she'd been looking at a felony charge, now she was clutching a brown paper bag containing her personal possessions and the receipt for a minor traffic fine. Grandma's tags had been out of date.

Her father's cab pulled up to the curb and she ran towards it, smiling. "Daddy!"

Frank gave her a cold look and didn't respond. Her smile faded. She huddled in the passenger seat of the car during the silent ride to her parents house.

Her mother and grandmother were sitting at the kitchen table when she shuffled in behind her father, who went straight to the living room and sat down in front of the TV, turning on a war documentary.

"Hi Mom," Stephanie said timidly. She started forward to hug her grandmother, but was rebuffed sharply. Meekly, she pulled out a chair and folded her hands on the table, waiting.

An hour later she was standing outside the bus station, a stuffed duffel bag over her shoulder and Rex's cage cradled in her other arm. There was $500 dollars in her purse and nothing else. No job, no apartment, no car.

"We'll figure it out," she told the hamster. "Somehow."

2.

"Hey, _bruja_. You still interested in the Bombshell?"

Sin straightened up slowly from her yoga mat and wiped away from her face with a towel. Angel leaned against the doorjamb, keeping the weight off his bad leg, a crooked smile on his face.

"Maybe," she replied casually. She glanced out the window and made a face. September had given way to a great and miserable October. The late afternoon sky was a heavy, sullen charcoal. A spatter of rain struck the glass.

"Word on the street is she's down to $20 and that rat in a box. If you wanted to make a move, now would be a good time."

Sin smirked. "Who says I want to?"

"You didn't set her up for all this just for fun." Angel limped to the nearest armchair and sat down. "Everything else was just collateral damage."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. She hadn't minded seeing the shutdown of the designer drug house, although Connie still bitched about her cousin's betrayal constantly. Lula had taken over the petty bonds, and Vinnie pretended he'd never heard of his cousin.

The Burg had comprehensively turned their back on Stephanie Plum. Joe Morelli took Robin Russell out for pizza at Pino's these days. Edna Mazur had moved into a small retirement community, and Helen was going to AA.

Ranger had listened to a few of her suggestions, finally. She smiled, thinking about the sweet second grade teacher his sister had set him up with the week before. He'd shown up to the standing Shorty's pizza night after their dinner date, looking panicked. Apparently, she wanted six kids. Tank had laughed so hard he'd fallen over. Ranger just drank his beer in one go and ordered another. Angel had asked for her number.

"Not all of it," she mused softly. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them. "Some of it worked out pretty well."

"So, do you want to get her or not?" Angel demanded in amusement. "Because I've got her pinned down right now, but probably only until the weather breaks."

"Let me get changed," Sin said. She heard towards the hallway, then turned back and gave her brother a smile. "And thank you."

Angel snorted and waved her off. "Go away, _bruja_. You've got a broom to catch."

A/N 2:

There are 2 more chapters scheduled for tonight, one immediately uploaded after this one, the other later, although if it gets too late I may do it in the morning. I know it's a lot of updates in one day, I write a lot during that stretch where I wasn't posting daily.

This story should be complete after the second chapter goes up tonight. I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and it won't disappoint anyone too badly!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N:

Everyone who has been curious about Sin and her past relationship with the Rangeman crew, here's your relief. And this is one of the few times I'm going to give a warning, ever.

**Some very blunt conversation about human trafficking, including children, follows. It is not extremely graphic, there is no sexual content, but it's there, and it's ugly, and if it will fuck you up, skip this chapter and read the gentler final chapter, which fills you in without the trauma. There's a reason I kept this one short! **

1.

Stephanie groaned as she looked up from her coffee to find Sin standing next to her booth in the rat trap diner where she and Rex had taken refuge from the rain.

"Haven't you done enough already?" she said waspishly. "I can't even have a cup of coffee in peace, now?"

Sin chuckled, not unkindly, and slid into the booth opposite her. She flagged the waitress down and ordered coffee, a fruit bowl, and two slices of chocolate cream pie.

"All on one ticket," she added with a smile. She waited until the food was delivered before she met Stephanie's suspicious eyes.

"What do you want?" the brunette gritted out between her teeth. Sin's smile widened into a gleeful grin.

"To offer you a job," she said brightly, digging into her pie. She hmmed over the first bite, and washed it down with the black sludge they brewed behind the counter. Selecting a grape and a strawberry from the small bowl, she dropped them into Rex's food bowl. The hamster scurried out to grab them, black eyes blinking in excitement.

"A job? You ruined my fucking life and you want to give me a _job?"_

"Well, not me, specifically, but the people I used to work for. I still do some consulting on the side. I've been eyeing you for a couple of years now, ever since they asked me to find my replacement."

Stephanie glared, but a niggle of curiosity tugged at her. For weeks, she'd been steamrolled by the woman in front of her, and now she was being told she was being considered to replace her? She looked Sin over carefully, taking in the neatly tailored leather jacket, the subdued but expensive jewelry. Sin smiled in wicked understanding.

"Okay, you're talking. I'll listen."

The other woman pushed her plate away and sat back, cradling her coffee cup.

"You've run distractions for Ranger. In a way, that's what I used to do. Only my distractions lasted months, and the people I was bringing in made your Benito Ramirez look like a jaywalker." A muscle flexed in her jaw, and Stephanie shuddered.

"No, that's not my line at all," she stuttered. "Not interested."

Sin's eyes flashed a poisonous green. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Little miss helpless who keeps her gun in a cookie jar and waits for the menfolk to ride to the rescue. Can the bullshit, Stephanie, I know better."

"I can't even get a job flipping burgers right now," Stephanie pointed out. "No one wants a snitch or a druggie on their payroll. Why should I believe this isn't just another one of your games?"

Sin laughed. "Really, Plum, who do you think kept you out of jail and got you that sweet DEA deal? Why do you think not one member of the Family has so much as hinted at coming after you? If my people didn't want you, trust me, we wouldn't have wasted the time and effort we've put into this."

"Thanks so much," Stephanie retorted sarcastically. "But why should I care?"

Sin's eyes turned icy, the skin over her cheekbones drawing tight. When she spoke, her voice was low and viciously bitter.

"Have you ever seen a roomful of men bidding on a 15 year old girl? Or walked through a tenant house full of pregnant women chained to their beds, knowing every one of those babies was going to be sold on the black market? How about four year old twins who were conditioned to drop to their knees and open their mouths every time they saw a lollipop?"

Stephanie's stomach rolled, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh my God," she whispered, crossing herself. She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, her knuckles white around her coffee cup.

"I got all of them out," Sin said quietly. "Every last one. The twins are playing Little League now. They have pet turtles named Frog and Snake."

"That's how I met Ranger and his team. They were my backup. I got the targets lined up, they took them down and we got the victims out."

Stephanie raised her head and stared at the slim blonde. "How many more are there, though?"

"Thousands. That's why I started looking at you. I knew about you because of my brother, and started asking around. You're smart, you're pretty, and you're a natural born liar, and you're financially motivated. It doesn't bother you to use people, and you don't actually mind getting your hands dirty, if you think no one will see." Sin snorted in amusement.

"Hell, you were good enough to run game on Ranger and the guys right under their noses. No one's ever managed that before. If it had been anyone but my guys, I would have stood back and cheered. I know a good grifter when I see one."

"Everyone knows me," Steph pointed out acidly. "My cover would be blown in fifteen minutes. I can't even rent a room on Stark Street right now. I'm poison."

"Oh, honey. You didn't think you'd be working in Jersey, really? This place is a dead zone- the big boys all moved away years ago, and now this is just a retirement home for the old farts or the crazies who don't have any real power left." Sin lifted her eyes heavenward, her voice colored with laughter.

"The Family still sends little pension packets up this way, but it's a respect thing. Everyone turns a blind eye to it because it's easier to just let them die off than worry about the little bit of cream they're skimming off the top. If you made the cut, you'd be working West Coast, mainly."

"I thought I'd already made the cut," Stephanie bristled. Sin shook her head, gently. She pulled a business card and a blank black credit card from her pocket and laid them on the table beside her keys.

"Almost, but not yet. Consider this the first test. You want a real shot? You get up, right now, leave everything but your driver's license, take these, and drive straight to that address. The card covers travel expenses only. When you get there, the real interview starts."

Green eyes held blue across the table. Stephanie looked at the meager pile on the table, chewing her bottom lip. She thought about her family, about Rex, about the stack of job applications shoved into her purse. _Can I really just walk away from everything like this? _

_Who am I kidding? It's all gone now anyway. The Burg will never let me live it down. I don't have any bridges left to burn. And it's got to be better than stuffing tampons in a box for the rest of my life. _

"Tick tock," Sin chided softly. "Did I mention the money? It's a lot of money- if you make the cut." Surging to her feet, Stephanie snatched the pile off the table and stuffed the cards in her pocket before pulling her driver's license out of her wallet and dropping her purse with a thunk in front of Sin.

"I'm not saying thank you," she huffed, and strode out into the rain. "Take care of my hamster."

Sin watched her go, shaking her head and laughing softly to herself.

"You're welcome, Babe."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N:

Not mine, just borrowed. I think they had fun.

Final Chapter! Fireworks and balloons and happy happy joy joy dances! Heh, no. Just tidying up the lost ends. No one gets a HEA. Just an ordinary ever after.

If you enjoyed this, please, look me up on Amazon. I'm Kelly Gabriels. I've got two Arcana books and an anthology of shorts out there. You can even read them for free if you have KU. :)

ONE YEAR LATER

Pizza night at Shorty's was in full swing. Angel had his head close to Elise's, nodding in agreement to whatever wedding plans she was telling him about, his thumb rubbing over the diamond in her engagement ring. Tank was showing Cal a cat a video, while the other man's eyes glazed over.

Ranger caught Sin's gaze across the table and nodded to indicate someone approaching the table. "Company," he said softly.

Sin turned to smile at the brunette who moved up uncertainly. The woman's hair lay in sleek, expensively highlighted waves, her makeup was flawless in the bar's dim light.

"You look great," Sin said warmly, pushing back her chair. "Doesn't she, gentlemen?"

Everyone's eyes lifted to the transformed Stephanie Plum. Les whistled softly under his breath.

"Uhm, hi." Even her voice had changed, the nasal Jersey twang vanished under a cultured, middle of nowhere drawl. "I just- well, honestly, I just dropped in to see Cynthia and Carlos. Could I borrow you two for a moment? Privately?"

Sin rose instantly, giving Ranger an exasperated look when he hesitated. "Fine," he muttered, following the two women out the door.

The night was crisp and cool, settling the usual car fumes and city smells under the spice of crunchy fallen leaves and the promise of frost. If you squinted, you could almost see the stars overhead in the cloudless sky. The trio walked a few steps from the door, until the music and chatter of the bar receded enough to make conversation possible.

"I wanted to thank you," Stephanie said finally, darting a look at Ranger, although she spoke to Sin. The blonde laughed softly, shaking her head.

"No thanks needed. Nice job in Utah, by the way."

Stephanie blushed and ducked her head. Ranger cleared his throat and leaned back against the bricks.

"Are you in town to visit, or working?" he asked.

"Neither, really. I had something to do in New York, so I took a chance and dropped by tonight." She finally met his gaze, her blue eyes regretful. "Ranger… I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much now, but I needed to say it."

"Water under the bridge, Babe." Ranger gave her a brief smile and offered his hand. She took it in her own carefully manicured one and shook it, blinking back tears.

"Thank you."

She turned back to Sin. "And thank you, again. You were right." Her lips tilted in a sudden, evil grin. "Davidson says you're always right."

"And if I'm not, I change the rules until I am." Sin returned the grin. "I'm proud of you, Plum."

Stephanie stuck out her hand and the two women shook. She started to turn away, then swung back.

"I almost forgot. These are for you two." She handed each of them an envelope, then gave them a cheeky wave and disappeared into the sedan idling at the curb. It pulled away, and Ranger gingerly opened the thick envelope in his hand.

"Car keys," he said, bemused. He looked at the handwritten tag attached to the fob. "For the days you don't want to be Batman."

He clicked the remote cautiously, and down the block, an alarm beeped in response. They moved towards the headlights.

"Nice," Sin said, looking over the sleek 68 Mustang crouched at the curb. The black paint shimmered like an oil slick under the streetlights. The interior gleamed in deep red leather.

"Very nice," Ranger agreed. He opened the door and slid into the drivers seat. The glove compartment yielded the title and registration, made out to him.

"It's not a Porsche, but it suits you."

"So what did she give you?" Ranger asked curiously. Sin shrugged and opened her envelope, tilting out the contents into her palm. A tiny silver broom charm gleamed in the streetlamp glow, attached to a fine silver chain. She scanned the scrap of a note attached, and laughed in delight.

"Private joke," she answered Ranger's questioning look. Tucking necklace and note into her pocket, she stepped back again to give the car another long look. Ranger joined her, slinging a friendly arm over her shoulders.

"I think she'll be okay," he said thoughtfully.

"I think you're right."

FINIS

Author's final note:

No happily ever after, but everyone lived. Nothing is forgotten, but maybe forgiven. Maybe one day I'll revisit Stephanie's new world and her repayment of her past sins (or someone else could, with my blessing). Ranger is still Ranger, Joe still has a badge, and Sin remains the Bruja (Spanish for Witch, in case anyone was wondering).

Hopefully no Babes or Cupcakes were too badly bruised in this story. It was an exercise in moving Stephanie away from the little girl helpless routine and into big girl panties, using Sin as a lever.

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and critiques. I love all of them, good and bad and in between. Happy writing and reading, everyone!


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